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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077655">Moonlight Sonata</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNSmith/pseuds/AnnaNSmith'>AnnaNSmith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Honeymoon, Humor, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Living Together, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 10, Rimming, Slice of Life, Smut, Top Ian Gallagher, Violence, a dash of angst, mentions of OC suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:27:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNSmith/pseuds/AnnaNSmith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 10. Life in the Gallagher house is still pretty much the same. They still gotta deal with drunk Frank, court hearings, scams galore, and the occasional curve ball life throws at them. But Ian learns having Mickey around makes everything that much easier. And fun.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>778</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The adoption papers haven't gone through yet, but I am in the middle of adopting my baby Mickey Milkovich. He's just the most precious thing. He deserves to receive everything he wishes for and since that fundamentally boils down to Ian Gallagher, I basically wrote a 40K love letter from Ian to Mickey.</p><p>Huge shout-out to the amazingly talented honeycube02 who prepared the artwork for this fic! Please check her out on tumblr to see more of her awesome work!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Artwork by: <a href="https://honeycube02.tumblr.com">honeycube02</a></p><p> </p><p>Chapter 1 - Sex</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Frank and Monica aren’t exactly the fucking picture of marital bliss.</em>
</p><p>The words are still ringing in Ian’s head sometimes. That whole city hall thing was a huge fuck up and while he is glad it’s all behind them, that they’ve gone through with it and got hitched to each other, he still thinks he doesn’t really know what it means to be a husband. He looks over at Mickey who is sitting next to him, enthusiastically eating his eggs, bacon long devoured, and he thinks there’s not much of a difference compared to a few weeks ago. Mickey’s still second to wake up in the morning. Lies asleep in his arms, heavy and warm. Gradually rising to consciousness when Ian starts inhaling his scent at the back of his neck, begins pressing closer. Mickey humming contently awake, burrowing closer, placing a simple kiss wherever he reaches first before he even opens his eyes. If they can afford the time, it usually continues in early morning sex, in bed or in the shower. Once even on the way to the bathroom, to Carl’s strong vocal protest.</p><p>It’s fantastic, but it’s not really different to before they got married. It feels a bit more domestic, Ian thinks. But he still wonders if being married shouldn’t have changed something. He still feels like they’re just Ian and Mickey. Only, that now they have a filed piece of paper somewhere in Chicago’s record hall that puts what he and Mickey have in a legal term. The sex is fucking fantastic. But again, Mickey and he have always been incredibly compatible in that regard. Yes, the wedding night was nothing less but spectacular and if Terry hadn’t already been on his <em>Would like to murder</em> list, he’d have jumped right to the top for crashing their honeymoon in what was the best sex he’s ever had. That being said, he expected it to be good. And it still feels more like an Ian and Mickey thing, rather than it should be contributed to them being husbands now. He knows he’s not really making sense and he’s just thinking too much, but it still seems like there is a disconnect in his mind. That something should have clicked in place the moment they got married. There is nothing he is unsatisfied about, he can genuinely say he is happy and content with his life. And Mickey seems happy too. So there’s no complaints. Just something that’s been setting roots at the back of his mind.</p><p>He must have spaced out, staring at Mickey while he ate, because his husband seems self-conscious now, visibly unsure what Ian’s deal is. He shifts his eyes a little, eyebrows raised in apparent question.</p><p>“What?” He finally asks. His lip shines a little where orange juice still lingers at the corner.</p><p>“Nothing,” Ian answers, pulling himself out of thought. He pushes his plate to Mickey, offering him the remains of his breakfast.</p><p>“Serious?” Mickey asks, eyeing the bacon for a second, licking his lips.</p><p>Ian can’t help but find it endearing how simple Mickey is in contrast to him at times. He’s sitting here at his shitty childhood kitchen table, eating the last scraps they could find in the fridge, a hole in both socks, and is eying the bacon with a single-minded focus that leaves no room for worries or futile theories to marital existential self-identification. He nods for Mickey to go ahead and earns a <em>Hell yeah!</em> and broad smile in return. Mickey shuffles the eggs and bacon unceremoniously on his own plate and Ian’s eyes catch on the white gold band circling his husband’s ring finger. He has to admit he’s got a thing for it now. Yesterday during their morning shower while he was blowing him he was able to feel the ring brushing over his head when Mickey was holding onto his hair. He kinda liked the mental picture. There was nothing more to it, after all it’s just a ring, Ian thinks. He never had a thing for jewelry before. So he supposes it’s either Mickey related or actually marriage related.</p><p>He decides to explore that avenue and bends over, placing his lips at the corner of Mickey’s mouth, licking the taste of orange juice. Before Mickey can react, he sends a cursory look toward Franny who is lying on the sofa in the living room, having recently decided to keep watch over the front door, in case her mom comes home, and when satisfied she is sufficiently distracted by the TV and her peanut butter toast he vanishes under the table and sinks down between Mickey’s legs.</p><p>“Okay,” Mickey drawls, very much on board with the idea.</p><p>Ian makes quick work of the belt and zipper, pulling Mickey’s dick out. He licks along the underside, moving up to circle around the head, gently sucking the tip into his mouth. He continues getting his dick wet, licking around the sides, sucking briefly at the head on every other up-stroke. He kisses and licks at his balls, rolling them around in his palm when he moves back to concentrate his tongue on Mickey’s dick. It doesn’t take long until he’s fully hard. Reaching up to Mickey’s side, he pulls at his arm pointedly. He hears the fork clatter onto the plate when Mickey follows his cue and once in reach, he grabs his hand and guides it to his head. Only then does he start taking his dick fully inside his mouth.</p><p>He always liked Mickey’s dick. While not as long as his, it has a nice girth to it. Feels wide and heavy on his tongue. Feels familiar. Ian knows exactly how to move to entice just the right moans from above. The fingers in his hair tighten, not pushing or guiding, just enjoying Ian’s ministrations. Wanting to feel more, Ian moves his tongue around and starts to suck harder.</p><p>“Fuck yeah, Ian,” Mickey moans, gripping a little tighter. Ian can feel his hair slipping through Mickey’s fingers and the almost phantom brush of the wedding ring moving along his scalp. He hums alongside Mickey’s head and dips his tongue into the slit, earning another drawn-out moan from above. Mickey’s fingers card through the short hairs at the back of his head, occasionally tightening his grip. Ian has to make a conscious effort not to get hard. He keeps imagining what it looks like having Mickey’s hand in his hair. Seeing the ring slightly obscured by his red hair as Mickey’s fingers brush along his scalp. He puts his hand on the base of Mickey’s dick and starts stroking to the rhythm. He sees his own ring sliding alongside the skin. His ring on Mickey’s dick. Yeah, Ian’s pretty sure he has a thing for rings now.</p><p>“You’re gonna be late,” Mickey groans, reminding Ian of his shift. The reminder pulls Ian out of his headspace, abandoning his train of thought.</p><p>“Then come faster,” Ian replies, mouthing into his balls.</p><p>Less than a minute later finds Mickey coming in Ian’s hot mouth, breath catching in his throat. Ian licks the corner of his mouth for cum and spit, tucks Mickey back in, and then climbs out from under the table.</p><p>“I take it you had a satisfactory breakfast, Mr. Gallagher?” He asks sardonically, grabbing his empty plate on the way to the kitchen counter. They hadn’t actually changed names. Both agreed to keep their last names, too attached to their own roots, as pointless as it may seem to be rueful about a pillar of South Side family history. Their names might be the paragons of this white trash neighborhood, but it’s the only identity they have ever known. So while legally they are still Gallagher and Milkovich respectively, they take liberty in playing around with their names in the privacy of their own.</p><p>Mickey catches him around the waist, holding onto his hips, a lopsided grin on his face. “C’mere,” he beckons, reaching for his chin, pulling him down into a filthy kiss. When they part, Mickey keeps him for a moment, staring into his eyes in that familiar look. The one that looks like Ian has just hung the moon for him.</p><p>“You’re happy?” Ian starts, watching the blue irises watching him. “With me being your husband, right?”</p><p>“I just fucking shot my load down your throat while I ate bacon. What’d you think?” Mickey retorts as if Ian were stupid. A few creases start wrinkling his forehead. “Why…” He starts visibly bracing himself. “Somethin’ wrong?”</p><p>“No, sorry,” Ian exhales, annoyed with himself. He should have known the question would make Mickey uneasy. He’s been too self-involved, <em>again</em>, and he’s given Mickey enough reasons in the past to feel insecure about their relationship – it’s nothing short of a miracle Mickey bounced back from it still loving him – that he can’t afford making the same mistakes again. He promised himself he would try being better, make conscious efforts to let Mickey know he’s his priority. That includes making Mickey feel secure in their relationship. And he’s already fucking up. “Just want to be good. A good husband,” he says sighing, irritated by his own ineptness.</p><p>“Yeah, well, you can chuck down bacon blowjobs in the margin of Good Husband. Put a star next to it, I’m giving you extra credit,” Mickey replies, instantly relaxing, pushing Ian away with a slap to his ass.</p><p>“If only High School would have been that easy,” Ian muses while putting his dishes in the sink. “And <em>fast</em>,” he adds, his face betraying nothing.</p><p>“Oh shut up,” Mickey responds, joining him in the kitchen, pushing him away from the sink. “Between you and me, I wasn’t the one who came under five seconds the first time I got deepthroated,” Mickey points out knowingly and Ian has to admit that Mickey is better at sucking cock than he is. In fact, Mickey is so insanely good at it, he’s confident he could give any porn star a run for their money. If he hadn’t actually been with Mickey in the early days, pre-coming out, he’d be a bit worried how Mickey’s gotten so talented, seeing as he spent most of his time in juvie and prison. Turns out Mickey is just a born cock sucker.</p><p>“Think I can get some one-on-one lessons, Mr. Gallagher? Don’t wanna flunk sex-ed,” Ian asks, pulling Mickey roughly against him.</p><p>“You getting off on the teacher thing?” Mickey huffs amused, holding onto Ian’s hips, swaying a little with the motion.</p><p>Ian tilts his head, considering it. “A little. I wonder what attending detention would look like.”</p><p>Mickey’s hand travels to his cheek, he looks from his eyes to his lips, his own mouth hanging open when he speaks. “Can’t run your fuckin’ mouth, that’s for sure.”</p><p>Their tongues meet playfully until the need to press their lips together becomes more urgent and they lose themselves in the kiss for a blissful moment. They have to forcefully put some distance between each other on account of Ian having to catch the L in time.</p><p>“We both got tomorrow off, let’s do something extra fun tonight. You not being able to walk tomorrow fun,” Ian proposes. With Lip, Tami, and Freddie living in the trailer, Debbie in jail, Carl busy with his undercover shtick, it’s just putting Franny to bed and letting Liam do his homework. This is the emptiest this house will ever get.</p><p>Mickey grins, glancing to the side, watching his husband put on his EMT jacket. “I’ll bring the beads, you bring the lube,” Mickey says, licking the corner of his lips.</p><p>“Tonight,” Ian promises as he grabs his backpack and walks to Franny to give her a kiss to the top of her head. “Tonight!” He shouts one more time before he shuts the front door behind him.</p><p>-</p><p>Of course it doesn’t happen that night.</p><p>Liam is cooking dinner while Ian is trying to calm down Franny after she had briefly been talking over the phone with Debbie and Lip is coaxing a burp out of Freddie when Frank crashes into the front door. No surprise there, he is drunk. But the Asian boy trotting in after him, that is new.</p><p>“The hell, Frank!” Ian exclaims exasperated. He thinks he heard their lock break when Frank busted in.</p><p>“Family!” Frank shouts, his limps trying to figure out where its body’s point of gravity lies. “Somethin’s wrong with ya door. Might want to take a look at that...”</p><p>“It was locked,” Lip replies annoyed. “Specifically to keep you out.”</p><p>“You hear that?” Frank turns to look at the boy in indignation. “My own family, lockin’ me out of my own home! That is what came out of my loins-” he points to everyone in the kitchen, earning a collective disgusted groan in response. “And ya see how they’re treatin’ me? Like a lepra!”</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Liam asks, having turned off the stove, knowing with Frank in the house it’s safer that way.</p><p>“Well, hello to you too,” Frank greets mockingly, tripping in the process. “I wanted to introduce you to your new brother. Say hi to Hao Yu,” he says, gesturing excitedly at the boy.</p><p>“Shinho,” the boy corrects unimpressed, hands burrowed into his jacket pockets. “I’m Korean, not Taiwanese.”</p><p>“Whatever, son. ‘S all the same white rice and sprouts with ya guys,” he retorts, waving him off. He starts ushering the boy into the kitchen, managing to bump into both sides of the door frame. Ian is really not in the mood for Frank’s shit tonight. At least Franny has stopped crying in his arms, too distracted by the drunk in their kitchen.</p><p>“Brother?” Lip asks pointedly. “Please tell me you didn’t knock somebody else up and they left their child with you. Fiona isn’t here and we’re not taking care of another kid.”</p><p>“He’s not my father,” the boy scoffs, crunching his nose in disgust at Frank.</p><p>“Are you alright? Did he do something to you?” Ian asks. While he knows the Gallagher house has always been a weird theater stage for whatever is currently going on with its respective family members, he is seriously sick of Frank’s brand of drama. You never know what you’ll find walking into the house, but he is most on edge when it’s Frank pulling shit. It’s just too unpredictable, like a ricocheting bullet. Nobody knows what it will hit.</p><p>“Unlike the ungrateful products of my sperm,” Frank begins, turning to Ian in an afterthought. “Not you, I guess-”</p><p>“A blessing, Frank,” Ian rebuts instantly, moving to sit Franny down at the table.</p><p>“I’ve decided to endeavor into the foreign market. Much like German beer, Argentinian beef, and Cuban cigars, some imported goods are just better than the piss poor domestic versions we’ve tried to produce. Why emulate when you can just shop somewhere else? Isn’t this what makes America great? Throw some money at it and we can just about buy anythin’ we goddamn like!”</p><p>“You don’t have any money, Frank,” Liam points out patronizingly. “Can you spout your rant somewhere else? I still need to finish dinner and do my homework. I don’t have time for the Frank Show tonight.” With the whole coke fuck up they’d all been worried how Liam would develop. Now when Ian looks at him, he thinks he’s turned out the best out of them all.</p><p>“He’s right. Whatever this is, take it outside. You are not welcome here,” Lip says, patience audibly getting thinner. Freddie starts getting fussy in his arms and Ian knows Lip has barely slept in the last three days.</p><p>“I need to feed my child! This poor thing didn’t get anything but raw rice and something terrible called <em>kimchi</em> down at the Korean Church! I tried it and, boys, ‘s not a good alcohol soaker I can tell you that.”</p><p>Sometimes Ian can’t comprehend the degree of shit that comes out of Frank’s mouth. As if he’s ever cared about feeding his children. There’s always been an angle he was playing. Taking care of his family was never one.</p><p>“He’s not your child!” Lip shouts exasperated. “Bring him back where you found him.”</p><p>“How did you end up with Frank?” Ian asks, stepping closer to the boy. The kid seems fine. Has just the right amount of holes in his clothes to know he’s from the South Side. Which in this case means Frank didn’t actually kidnap the boy for ransom or whatever shit. Also, the kid looks entirely unfazed with Frank dragging him to a random house. Kinda reminds him of young Carl. Ian bets if he patted him down, he’d find at least one butterfly knife, maybe even a gun. The kid knows how to take care of himself. He has South Side written all over him.</p><p>“We’re scamming Mrs. Kim from choir group,” he answers casually.</p><p>Ian rolls his eyes. Of course they are. “Get out, Frank.”</p><p>“You don’t tell me what to do,” Frank dismisses him, staggering to the fridge to take out a beer.</p><p>Ian grabs it out of his hand and puts it on the counter with a loud bang, sloshing liquid out in the process.</p><p>“Liam,” is all Ian says and his younger brother moves out of their way and to the kitchen table. He takes Freddie from Lip and places him gently against his shoulder.</p><p>“I need to do my math extra cred’ tonight. Which means you need to deal with Frank,” Liam tells Lip matter-of-fact. He turns around to Franny, takes her hand with his free one, and heads upstairs with the little ones.</p><p>“Word of advice,” Ian turns to the Korean boy. “Whatever you’re planning, you’re better off without him. He fucks up all the time. Has enemies everywhere. And if he has the chance he will pull one over you. He wouldn’t care selling his own children, much less blink twice with somebody he picked off the streets.”</p><p>“He can try, but he’d up with a knife to his gut,” the kid says unimpressed.</p><p>“Be my guest. Just not in my house,” Ian replies with a sigh.</p><p>“Fine,” the boy agrees and walks out the back door.</p><p>“Great! Now how am I supposed to make the old blind hag believe she has a grandson without him?” Frank shouts aggravated, arms up in the air.</p><p>“You’re unbelievable,” Lip says, shaking his head, joining them in the kitchen.</p><p>In true Gallagher fashion they almost end up tearing down the kitchen trying to force Frank out of the house. For somebody so fucking drunk, Frank manages to weasel around Ian and Lip enough to really rile them up. They knock down the half done pot of Liam’s stew, smash the beer bottle on the kitchen floor, and break two chairs. Ian manages to hit his head on the counter when shoved and Lip gets smacked right in the face with Frank’s shoe when the latter decided to throw everything he could get his fingers on. Finally, Ian gets his arms around Frank and puts him in a semi headlock. Lip grabs his legs and they start carrying him toward the back door.</p><p>“Oh boys, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Frank chokes out, struggling against their grips.</p><p>“Oh yeah, why not?” Ian humors him, trying to get the door open while holding onto Frank. Frank twists in his arms, tilts his head as much as the hold on him allows, and, unceremoniously, throws up. All over Ian.</p><p>“That’s why.”</p><p>Highly motivated they carry Frank out back and, once they are satisfied they are far enough from the house, toss him to the streets. Ian holds his arms away from his body and disgusted looks down his puke drenched uniform.</p><p>“Man, I can truly say I’m happy Freddie was the Gallagher that vomited on me today,” Lip says, half smile on his face.</p><p>“Just shut up,” Ian replies, walking through their backyard, trying to shake off chunks of Frank’s dinner.</p><p>They enter the kitchen only to find Mickey standing in the middle of the mess, both arms in the air, one holding a plastic bag.</p><p>“The fuck happened?” He asks outraged. “Can’t a guy go out for thirty minutes to buy some goddamn fuckin’ lube without you knuckleheads tearing down the place?”</p><p>It takes them an hour to clean up the mess, and in Ian’s case shower, and another agonizing hour over the sink for Ian to clean the vomit out of his work shoes. It’s his only pair and he can’t afford to buy new ones, otherwise he would have burnt his entire uniform. As it stands the washer is dutifully tumbling his clothes clean behind him. Lip is looking over Liam’s homework upstairs, Tami had gotten Freddie to fall asleep and moved him over to the trailer, which left Mickey to feed and coax Franny into bed. As expected she made a huge fuss about not being allowed to sleep on the couch tonight. With the door lock broken, they weren’t comfortable letting her sleep in the living room. Although they barricaded the entrance as best as they could, they’d prefer to have her upstairs in near vicinity. Ian can still hear her hiccuping from down in the kitchen and he’s pretty sure Mickey has resorted to bribing her by now. The words thirty dollars carried down the stairs.</p><p>“I told Carl about the front door for when he comes home,” Lip tells Ian, trotting down the stairs. “Liam is done with his homework and Mickey seems close to making a deal with Franny, which, hopefully, will end up in her getting into bed. You gonna be fine here? I’m beat, ‘m trying to get a couple hours of sleep before Freddie wakes up again.”</p><p>“Yeah, ‘course. Thanks for your help,” Ian replies tiredly.</p><p>Lip pats him on the shoulder, squeezing once affectionately. “Shouldn’t’ve forgotten to buy the lube,” he parts, grinning in amusement.</p><p>Ian nods annoyed, shoving his brother goodbye. He had promised to buy lube after his shift, even received a very clear reminder text from Mickey during the day. But a late emergency call, which turned out to be a minor case, quickly handled on scene, had been right around the block and his colleague agreed to just drop him off at home on the way back. He’d completely forgotten about the lube. Which Mickey was not amused by. He had been hoping to get a quickie in before dinner. If Franny hadn’t made a fuss, he’d gone out and bought the damn lube himself, but Mickey muttered something about <em>Y</em><em>ou wanna have something shoved up your ass, you gotta take care of it yourself! I’ll get the lube. You just make sure that little one is sleeping when I get back!</em></p><p>Finally done with the shoes, he leaves them to dry outside on the porch. With a sigh he plops down on the sofa, eyes closed, head lying on the back rest, enjoying the dark and quiet for a moment until Mickey joins him at his right. He hears him dropping his feet on the coffee table and opening two bottles of beer. Without looking up he holds his hand out and Mickey places a bottle into his palm. They clink and take their first sip in silence, settling into the sofa.</p><p>“Your dad, huh,” Mickey says.</p><p>“Yeah, my dad,” Ian replies, sighing tiredly.</p><p>“Better yours than mine. Kitchen would have looked a lot worse otherwise,” Mickey points out with a shrug. They would have probably cleaned up blood instead, if it had been Terry.</p><p>“Small mercies I guess,” he retorts, clearly not happy at all.</p><p>“Shouldn’t’ve forgotten the lube, dude,” Mickey says unapologetically, taking a sip from his beer. “Karma is a bitch.”</p><p>Ian turns his head to Mickey, annoyed. “Don’t think it would have changed much about the situation.”</p><p>“Ya wouldn’t have been dressed enough for him to puke on your clothes, that’s for sure.”</p><p>“Oh, please, can we stop talking about Frank’s puke! I’m sorry I forgot to buy the lube!” Ian groans in defeat.</p><p>“Tell you what, you won’t make that mistake again,” Mickey retorts with a small chuckle.</p><p>Ian just rolls his eyes and nurses his beer in silence.</p><p>“Sorry about tonight, there’s no way I can get it up after Frank,” Ian says after a beat, thinking about the plans they made ruefully.</p><p>“Nah, ‘s alright. We’ve been doin’ it so much lately, I was worried about getting hemorrhoids,” he retorts jokingly with that dismissive hand gesture he likes to do.</p><p>“Dude,” Ian complains, looking at him slightly disturbed.</p><p>Mickey scoffs in response. “For months we’ve shared a prison cell, literally taking dumps in front of each other. The thought of hemorrhoids makes you squeamish now?”</p><p>“You could try being less disgusting,” Ian simply replies.</p><p>“Oh really? Do I need to remind you about Mexican week-” Mickey starts, but is promptly interrupted by Ian’s long-suffering groan. “What happened when you thought it was a good idea to shovel down the prison cafeteria’s day old chili, when I clearly warned you against doing so? But, no, you had to be a little contradicting shit and eat the whole thing. Remember what happened that night?”</p><p>“We promised never to bring this up again!”</p><p>“Must not have heard you over that cacophony of intestine music-”</p><p>“Stop, Mickey!”</p><p>“Sat there the whole night, right in front of my bed! The smell alone-”</p><p>“I get it, stop already!”</p><p>“And what happened when you ran out of toilet paper?”</p><p>“Mick!”</p><p>“Because prison rule says, only three rolls per cell, Ian! Gotta be economical, ration your papers until the next handout. So what did I do when you ran out in the middle of the night?”</p><p>“You bribed the guard...”</p><p>“For a roll of toilet paper I had to clean the public toilets for two weeks, Ian!”</p><p>“I told you I was sorry!”</p><p>“My point is,” Mickey emphasizes. “We’re past disgusting in our relationship. Besides, was just a matter of time until the honeymoon phase fizzled out.”</p><p>Ian looks at him silently for a moment. “You think the honeymoon phase has fizzled out?”</p><p>“Don’t see your flag rising right now,” Mickey replies, eyeing Ian’s crotch.</p><p>“Sorry,” Ian says after another beat of silence.</p><p>“C’mon, don’t be like that. It’s literally the first night since our wedding we haven’t been on each other. It had to happen at some point,” Mickey replies softly.</p><p>“Don’t want it to end yet,” Ian admits quietly. For two and a half weeks they’ve had constant sex. As much as is possible in a home full of Gallaghers and the usual family drama. They got engaged, had their wedding, and then the honeymoon, but Ian doesn’t know what comes after that. He’s been trying to understand what it means to be a husband and he’d been holding onto the clear steps from proposing to now. But he doesn’t know what comes next and he doesn’t want to fuck this up.</p><p>“Then it won’t yet,” Mickey agrees simply, reaching over to kiss him. “It’s just one night. Let’s recharge. Tomorrow we’ll have the house to ourselves, you can fuck me on every surface, bedroom to kitchen, up and down the stairs, wherever you want.”</p><p>Ian purses his lips, interest piqued, and gently brushes the hair behind Mickey’s ear. “I might need to go out and buy more lube.”</p><p>Mickey laughs, his face so close to Ian’s and Ian can’t help but think it’s the most beautiful sight. His ring reflects the moonlight coming in from the windows where he is cupping Mickey’s head and he leans in to indulge in a long, sweet kiss.</p><p>“I’m curious,” Ian says. “I’m pretty confident the best sex you’ve had was with me. It was the wedding night, right?” He asks, thinking about Mickey lying under him, looking at him as if Ian was the best thing that ever happened to him, coupled with that shit-eating grin when he rocked into his prostrate just right.</p><p>“Somebody is full of themselves,” Mickey scoffs amused, simply earning a cocked eyebrow in return, challenging him to contradict him. “Yeah, alright, you’ve always been the best lay. That make you happy?”</p><p>“You’re not exactly timid when it comes to expressing yourself in bed. You’re not that hard to read,” Ian simply explains. “I believe the term bossy bottom was defined after you.”</p><p>“Well, liking what I like don’t-”</p><p>“Don’t make me a bitch. I remember,” Ian quotes and can’t believe it’s been about ten years now since Mickey had told him at the Kash and Grab.</p><p>“Cute,” Mickey quips, hitting Ian playfully in the chest while he empties the rest of his beer.</p><p>“So?” Ian asks, still waiting for Mickey’s answer. “The wedding night?”</p><p>Taking a moment Mickey thinks about it. It’s a long list of hot and heavy sex dating back a decade.</p><p>“Yeah,” Mickey confirms casually after a while.</p><p>For all the hot and aggressive, and often kinky, sex they have, deep down Mickey is actually the love and hold kinda guy. It’s not exclusive, but the best sex just doesn’t boil down to how hard he came, Ian is pretty sure about that by now.</p><p>He places a quick kiss to the side of Mickey’s head, pulling him closer. “Knew it,” he says with just the tiniest hint of smugness in his voice. “Same here.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Mickey snorts, reaching for Ian’s beer, too lazy to get up and grab a new one from the fridge. Ian is too distracted by what Mickey said to complain.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The wedding night wasn’t your best, I know,” Mickey says very sure of himself.</p><p>“How would you know?” Ian asks incredulously.</p><p>“Look, it was awesome, but I know you and it wasn’t your number one,” he claims, shrugging.</p><p>“I’m listening,” Ian prompts expectantly.</p><p>For a moment it looks like Mickey is thinking back about a specific night, small smile on his lips.</p><p>“The night at the docks, after I busted out of prison.”</p><p>Ian thinks back, recalling everything they’ve said, every touch and every kiss. How Mickey just suddenly showed up in front of him again after so long. How he fit so easily back against him. The familiarity and the bottled up emotions buzzing like low voltage underneath his skin. The time he felt the intake of his lungs and the cool air on his skin so consciously, as if he was startled awake from the life he had build without Mickey. The way everything seemed to shift to the old axis so effortlessly. He didn’t think he had missed something until Mickey was standing in front of him, goading him on. As conflicted as he had been, nothing had ever felt more right when he entered him. It was a true and safe high, something that made him feel like he’d taken the first deep breath in years. Something that instantly made him feel alive and shattered him down to the core at the same time.</p><p>“Holy fuck,” Ian exhales stupefied.</p><p>“Told ya,” Mickey says, slapping Ian’s leg. “C’mon, let’s head to bed, husband.”</p><p>Ian had genuinely been struggling about <em>all the versions</em> of himself, scared of who he really is and who he’d be in the future. Trying to make sense of his own self. Whereas Mickey never seemed to be confused for even a second. As if it were as simple as Ian just being Ian. Knowing him better than Ian knew himself.</p><p>For the first time since he started trying to spin his head around the concept of marriage, he thinks he’s finally understanding a little better. There will never be someone who will be able to complete him the way Mickey does. Simply by being Mickey.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Ian pushes Mickey against the kitchen back door, pressing against him roughly, eagerly licking into his mouth. They’ve been hurriedly staggering home, their hands grabbing at the other where ever they could, kissing as much as it would allow without them tripping and falling. Ian kneads Mickey’s ass, loving the full feeling in his hands and then blindly fumbling further to the door knob. He can’t get it to open, impatiently groaning against Mickey’s lips.</p><p>“Get the fucking door open, I need you to get on me <em>now</em>,” Mickey says, biting at the flesh in front of him.</p><p>“Can’t,” Ian grunts out, trying to stop rutting against Mickey long enough so he can get to his front pocket. “Door’s locked. Need to get my key.”</p><p>“Lemme help you,” Mickey replies, slipping his hand into Ian’s boxers, taking his dick in his hand. “Ah, that’s not it.”</p><p>“Think?” Ian breathes shakily.</p><p>“Sorry, want me to let go?” Mickey asks sardonically and starts stroking Ian’s dick.</p><p>“Don’t you dare,” Ian moans out and finally fishes out his key.</p><p>They practically stumble into the dark, halting for a moment to listen to the house. It’s empty and they turn and grin at each other. Unceremoniously, they let their takeout fall to the floor and get their hands on each other, kissing and grinding. Ian uses the motion to push Mickey against the side of the counter, lets their lips crash together, slips his tongue into his mouth, all while impatiently tearing Mickey’s jacket off. They move away from the counter, allowing the jacket to slide off and Mickey shoves Ian to the washer, getting his hands on Ian’s belt. Ian follows suit and gets Mickey’s belt open as well, rips at the buttons until they finally give, and then shoves his pants down. He pulls Mickey to his front, kissing him roughly, grinds alongside Mickey’s rhythm, building skin on skin friction that has him moan out loudly into the empty house. He lets out an impatient exhale, grabs Mickey, and spins them around. He gets a hold on the back of Mickey’s thighs and lifts him up on the washer in one harsh motion.</p><p>“Fuck yeah,” Mickey laughs out, pulling his shirt off. Ian does the same, gets his jacket and henley off, pushes his pants down to let them pool at his ankle, but not before he takes out a pack of lube, ripping it open with his teeth.</p><p>He slicks himself up fast and pushes the excess lube into Mickey’s hole. Ian’s just about to begin to scissor him open, when Mickey pulls his fingers away impatiently.</p><p>“Get in me. Now,” Mickey demands almost annoyed.</p><p>Ian lobs one of Mickey’s legs over his arm and holds onto the wall behind them and with the other he pulls Mickey’s ass closer, angling his dick to his entrance. They both groan out happily when Ian pushes into him, bottoming out immediately. The washer bangs against the wall alongside Ian’s fast and hard thrusts, a constant background sound to Ian and Mickey’s harsh exhales and the loud slaps of skin echoing through the room.</p><p>“Fuck, Mick…” Ian presses out, roughly hammering into him. The position doesn’t really allow for much finesse, he isn’t hitting Mickey’s spot quiet like he would like, but Mickey doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying the hard and fast thrusts just fine.</p><p>“Yes, just like that, Gallagher! Fuck!”</p><p>They seem to be on the same page here that this is going to be a quick one. Just a quick and rough fuck, banging at the top of their game.</p><p>“Fucking close, Mickey…” Ian groans, gripping Mickey’s ass tightly.</p><p>“Me, too…” Mickey replies, tightening around Ian’s dick.</p><p>“C’mon, Mickey… Fucking come,” Ian stammers, rocking into him with hard and deep thrusts.</p><p>“<em>Fuck!</em>” Mickey comes on a long, drawn-out moan and Ian’s right behind him.</p><p>The strength in his legs pretty quickly leaves him and he loses his balance, his feet catching on the pants around his ankles. Since he was holding Mickey up, they both end up tumbling to the ground. Their grunts of pain and discomfort quickly turn into outright laughter and they contently collapse onto the kitchen floor in the middle of their clothes and takeout.</p><p>“That was fun,” Mickey states smirking.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ian agrees out of breath.</p><p>“What’s gotten you so riled up anyway?” Mickey asks.</p><p>“Nothing,” Ian replies, turning his attention to the ceiling.</p><p>“You practically jumped me as soon as we were out of Antonio’s,” Mickey remarks.</p><p>Ian sighs and relents. “Antonio’s son is gay.”</p><p>“So?” Mickey looks at him quizzically.</p><p>“And he has a thing for you,” he answers.</p><p>Mickey bursts out laughing. “Are you serious?”</p><p>Ian simply lifts his eyebrows, looking at Mickey.</p><p>“First of all, how do you know he’s gay? Second of all, I think I’d have noticed if he liked me,” Mickey scoffs amused.</p><p>“It’s called a gaydar and you should get one. He very obviously tried to flirt with you, but you were too oblivious to notice,” Ian replies. “For God’s sake, he asked if you’d like to get your hands on his dough and work the pepperoni.”</p><p>“That wasn’t sexual-”</p><p>“Right, he was just conducting a job interview,” Ian cuts him off, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“So, what you’re telling me is that you were jealous?” Mickey asks, smirking.</p><p>“Call it what you want. I don’t think I need to like having another guy hit on my husband right in front of me,” Ian replies simply.</p><p>Mickey rolls on top of him, moving one hand to cup his cheek.</p><p>“I call it hot,” Mickey says grinning, leaning down to kiss him.</p><p>Suddenly, the door opens and Ian’s family walks in only to scream out in horror when they turn on the lights and see them lying naked on the kitchen floor.</p><p>“Really?!”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, Ian!”</p><p>“The kitchen floor?!”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake!”</p><p>“Why are Uncle Ian and Uncle Mickey naked again?”</p><p>“Close your eyes, Franny!”</p><p>“Family meeting in ten minutes! Clothes are not optional!”</p><p>Ian and Mickey sit on the sofa, Mickey munching on his pepperoni pizza without any care in the world, Lip, Carl, and Liam facing them, visibly annoyed.</p><p>“Okay, so, this has to stop. Your sexual exploits have gotten out of hand,” Lip begins, pacing in front of them. “We get that you’re newlyweds, but you gotta start reigning it in a little.”</p><p>“I cannot walk into the house and see you fuck one more time,” Carl groans, rubbing at his eyes.</p><p>“So you walked in on us once or twice, what’s the big deal?” Mickey shrugs, licking pizza sauce from his fingers.</p><p>“Once or twice? I saw you bent over the couch just yesterday!” Carl shoots back.</p><p>“Wait, I caught them doing it on the stairs <em>yesterday</em>,” Lip says incredulously.</p><p>“<em>Yesterday</em>, I walked in on them. In my room!” Liam adds.</p><p>“You weren’t supposed to be home,” Ian offers pathetically.</p><p>“This is what we’re talking about. You guys fuck like rabbits,” Lip says pointedly.</p><p>“Calm your tits,” Mickey says, not sorry at all.</p><p>“Franny already knows more about gay sex than she knows about animals, Mickey. She’s five,” Lip replies insistently.</p><p>“We have to establish some rules,” Liam says seriously from his spot on the coffee table.</p><p>“No more sex in communal spaces!” Carl demands.</p><p>“This includes the kitchen, living room, stairs, hallways, the downstairs toilet, the upstairs bathroom-” Lip lists.</p><p>“Fuck off, asshole. I ain’t abstaining from shower sex,” Mickey cuts him off adamant.</p><p>“At least lock the door,” Lip relents.</p><p>“I can’t ever unsee what my brother did to you,” Liam says, shuddering at the memory.</p><p>This is decidedly Ian’s nightmare. Bad enough they are having this sex intervention, he doesn’t need to go into detail. He knows exactly what Liam is referring to.</p><p>“Hey, you ever find a girl that is willing to do that, never let her go,” Mickey responds and winks at Liam. “Just check she isn’t actually a prostitute.”</p><p>“Jesus, Mickey, stop talking,” Ian groans.</p><p>“Girls can do that, too?” Liam asks.</p><p>“Okay, okay, enough. We get it, no more sex in front of you,” Ian cuts the conversation off before they start a sex-ed lesson.</p><p>“To make sure we can actually hold you to your promise, we decided on a punishment, so you’ll take this seriously,” Lip states. Ian and Mickey look at each other curiously and then turn their attention back to Lip. “If we catch you doing it one more time, you will have to do all chores for a month. Including doing <em>all</em> of Carl’s laundry.”</p><p>“You like spunk so much, you won’t have a problem washing my underwear,” Carl says, earning disgusted groans from Ian and Mickey.</p><p>“I hope this is sufficient motivation for you to keep it in your pants from now on.” Lip looks at them expectantly.</p><p>“We’ll be good,” Ian gives in over Mickey’s complaints.</p><p>“And while we’re at it, how about you keep it down a little?” Liam asks.</p><p>“He’s right, there are times Tami and I can hear you out back in the trailer.”</p><p>“No, get the fuck out! You’ve already meddled enough into our sex life, this was not part of the deal. We’ll make as much goddamn noise as we please, get fuckin’ ear plugs or whatever. And I suggest you get them now, because we’re about to get <em>real</em> loud!” Mickey warns, taking Ian’s arm and pulling him after him up the stairs.</p><p>Ian turns to his family and shrugs apologetically before pushing Mickey along, hurrying into their bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Without realizing Ian suddenly finds himself in front of his house. He doesn’t even remember walking home. His hands are still shaking, so he burrows them in his jacket pockets. Fuck he can’t get the image out of his head. Black hair vanishing behind the brick. It’s like a loop playing behind his eyes.</p><p>He hears shouting coming from inside and it rips a breath from him he didn’t realize he was holding. Trying to shake everything off, he steps one foot after the other, walking around the house to the back door. It’s very clear Tami and Lip are arguing, their shouts carrying outside. Freddie is crying and it prompts Ian to finally enter the kitchen.</p><p>“-but you don’t even talk to me anymore!” Tami shouts aggravated from the counter where she is preparing a bottle for Freddie.</p><p>“I talk! I’m just exhausted!” Lip counters, brushing his hands over his face, Freddie’s screams pierce through the house. Liam is trying to calm him, reaching inside the playpen and Carl is talking Franny down in what looks like her attempt to go on an adventure to find her mom if the full backpack is any indication. Carl looks up and sees Ian, welcomes him back home with an apologetic shrug, gesturing to the situation.</p><p>“Hey Ian,” Lip greets, having noticed him. He looks at his disheveled hair and probably pale face and turns his attention to his brother. “You okay?”</p><p>Ian’s fingers glide through his hair, exhaling a shaky breath. “Mickey?”</p><p>“Said he needed to run an errand. Wanted to be back before you came home. Hey, what’s going on? You look terrible,” Lip states worriedly, stepping closer to examine Ian.</p><p>Ian shakes his head, wound up too tight to talk to anyone right now. He heads up the stairs without a word, forgoes Mickey and his bedroom to lock himself up in the bathroom. His lungs feel tighter and his blood is pumping faster. His skin feels too hot and he all but rips his jacket off. He collapses against the sink and splashes cold water on himself, his breathing harsh and erratic. At the back of his mind he realizes he must have the beginnings of a panic attack.</p><p>“Hey, Ian, talk to me,” Lip calls out to him from the other side of the door. “You have me worried.”</p><p>“’M fine,” he presses out, resting his forehead against the cabinet.</p><p>“What happened?” Lip asks concerned.</p><p>“Just-” Ian’s voice sounds strangled to his own ears. “Give me a moment, Lip.”</p><p>He tries to concentrate, watches himself in the mirror, forces himself to regulate his breathing by dismissing every other thought. With every ounce of his strength he rejects any images and sounds from earlier, tries to focus on being in his own home and not on the top of that roof.</p><p>Everything is still too hot and he decides to strip, pulling the shower curtains aside to turn on the cold stream. At first the sensation comes close to pain where the cold water hits his overheated skin, but it pulls him out of the eerie swamp of dread and helplessness he was sure to drown in a minute ago.</p><p>He must have been in the shower for close to ten minutes, just standing there, letting the cold water wash over him. His body starts shivering, unable to cope with the cold any longer and he shuts the faucet off, but he takes another minute just standing there to really make sure he is ready to step out and face what he stripped off with his clothes.</p><p>When he opens the bathroom door, he’s immediately greeted by three worried brothers hovering against the opposite wall.</p><p>“I’m okay,” Ian exhales, subconsciously pulling the towel around his shoulders tighter.</p><p>“Talk to us,” Lip pleads softly.</p><p>“Something happened at work,” Ian forces himself to answer. He really doesn’t want to worry his family. But if he doesn’t say something, they might think it has something to do with his condition. “I don’t-,” he exhales harshly. “I <em>c</em><em>an’t</em> talk about it right now.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lip replies amenably. “But let us know if you need us. Promise?”</p><p>Ian nods and finds himself hugged tightly by Liam and Carl. A small smile pulls up the corner of his lips, mirrored by Lip who squeezes his shoulder once affectionately.</p><p>He heads to his room, dropping down on his bed, letting his head fall into his hands. An exhausted sigh escapes into the silence of the room and he warily looks up, wondering what he’s supposed to do now. His eyes wander and land on the picture on their dresser. It’s from the wedding, a moment captured from where they were in each other’s arms swaying to the music. The picture is encased in an intricate silver frame. A wedding present from Debbie. Sandy had been the one developing the photo and wrapping the gift on behalf of Debbie on account of her currently being locked up. She had handed it to them alongside her own. Specially ordered mugs with the prints <em>Domestic Bitch #1 </em>and <em>Domestic Bitch #2</em> respectively. Mickey had put her in a headlock, bitching her out about her shitty present and yet Ian sees him drinking out of his almost every morning. Tami had gotten them new bed sheets, insisting they start their marriage on linen that are not riddled with holes and covered in stains. He lies back into them, feeling desolate until he smells Mickey’s familiar scent. He is a bit puzzled how a scent can bring so much comfort when the person isn’t even there.</p><p>“Hey,” he hears Mickey say as if summoned, pulling the accordion doors shut. If he thought his smell was soothing, he can’t begin to express how relieved he is to hear his voice.</p><p>“Hey,” he whispers, turning his head to look at his husband.</p><p>“Heard you had a rough day,” Mickey says, moving to the dresser, emptying his pockets. Three new subscription bottles and a pack of cigarettes. He shrugs out of his jacket and kicks of his shoes, sitting down next to Ian.</p><p>“Lip text you?”</p><p>“Lip, Carl, Liam,” Mickey lists. “And Franny.”</p><p>Ian’s eyebrows are raised in bewilderment.</p><p>“She didn’t text so much as she left a voice message. She’s been sending Debbie voice messages after Sandy managed to get her a phone on the inside. Knows someone in there who owes her,” he explains shrugging.</p><p>It catches him off-guard and he huffs in surprise. Even Franny had been worried enough to reach out to Mickey.</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>Mickey looks at him skeptically. “You want me to call bullshit?”</p><p>Ian turns his head to meet Mickey’s eyes almost defiantly. “I had a really fucking terrible day.”</p><p>“C’mon,” Mickey says, voice soft but stern.</p><p>“Can’t you just,” he begins, struggling against the unwanted wave of emotions he had just managed to fight off. “Just lie here with me?”</p><p>Unlike his teenage years, he grew up to rarely ask for emotional comfort. And it leaves him bare and uncomfortable now when he does.</p><p>Mickey complies, stripping down to his boxers and climbing into bed beside him. Ian sighs, turning his head to Mickey’s, letting himself be pulled into the warmth of his body. It’s not long before the thoughts start creeping back into the forefront of his mind though. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping he could just will them away. He is snapped out of it when fingers brush through his hair, coaxing him to open his eyes. Mickey is worried, he can see it on his face and it terrifies him that he must look so vulnerable. They’ve been here before and Ian couldn’t handle it. Pushed him away when he couldn’t allow himself to be weak. He moves closer and kisses him. It’s a bit frantic and he feels Mickey hesitate against his lips. Ian knows he can’t handle the rejection right now and pushes further, deepening their kiss until Mickey gets on board and reciprocates earnestly, reaching up to cup Ian’s head. It’s freeing and comforting and Ian loses himself in the kiss, lets their lips and tongues connect them in a way he can’t right now with words. He keeps kissing him, eagerly licking into Mickey’s mouth, pressing closer to get as much skin to skin contact he can get. With one decided push he rolls them over, straddling Mickey’s waist and then dips down again to continue kissing him. He grinds his pelvis against Mickey’s, moaning heavily into Mickey’s mouth. This feels right, Ian thinks. The memories and dark thoughts aren’t haunting him when all he feels is Mickey against him. He needs this. Needs Mickey to touch him and kiss him and hold him. Needs Mickey to...</p><p>“Fuck me,” Ian moans, grinding down suggestively.</p><p>“Wait, what?” Mickey’s voice is like gravel.</p><p>“Fuck me,” Ian repeats, mouthing at Mickey’s neck.</p><p>“You mean switch?” He asks quizzically, pushing Ian to stop in his tracks for a moment to look into his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ian replies.</p><p>“Jesus, Ian, you’re scaring me a little here,” Mickey says, taking in a nervous breath.</p><p>“Because I asked you to top?” He asks.</p><p>“Yeah, because you asked me to top,” Mickey insists and pushes him off a little, so they could have a bit of space between them.</p><p>It takes everything in Ian not to get up and lock himself behind emotional walls. He understands how important it is not to push Mickey away now, so instead of lashing out he really tries to accept the fact he is vulnerable and needs help. With closed eyes he drops his forehead against Mickey’s and cups his face.</p><p>“Please,” Ian whispers. “I need this right now.”</p><p>Mickey looks at him for a long moment, clearly making up his mind.</p><p>“Lie down,” Mickey says, pushing Ian off him.</p><p>The relief washes over Ian visibly and he complies, rolling to the side. Mickey slips in between his legs, his weight pinning him down and it just feels so right and secure, Ian exhales a shaky breath. Mickey leans down and kisses him, brushing his thumb across his cheek in circles.</p><p>“’M gonna open you up,” Mickey begins. “And you start talking.”</p><p>His eyes shoot up to meet Mickey’s. He really doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t even know how to talk about it.</p><p>“Trust me,” Mickey says earnestly. So he nods and agrees and opens his mouth one more time for Mickey to kiss him before the latter moves down and spreads his legs.</p><p>“We got a call on Aberdeen St,” Ian starts, talking to the ceiling. “The woman reported an accident, but didn’t provide much information.”</p><p>Mickey hums, letting him know he is listening and for him to go on while he’s positioned himself between his legs, pushing them up and spreading them wide. Ian moves with him, following Mickey’s cues.</p><p>“When we arrived she asked to wait in the hallway. She knocked on her neighbor’s door and the woman who opened was clearly beaten up by someone. She was black and blue, Mickey,” Ian inhales shakily. Mickey’s tongue starts licking over Ian’s hole, the warm and wet sensation a little startling at first. Mickey keeps a calming hand on Ian’s thigh and continues licking broad stripes from his hole to his scrotum and back. “She was timid and it looked like the neighbor had had to talk her into calling us in the first place. She kept glancing back over her shoulder, visibly nervous.”</p><p>“Husband?” Mickey asks between his ministrations.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ian confirms. “He had passed out drunk after beating the shit out of her. It took a bit of convincing, but she agreed to be treated. But only somewhere away from her husband. We went up on the roof and I sat her down to take a look at her,” Ian explains, groaning when Mickey enters his tongue. “Her wrist was broken badly. Clearly she had broken bones in the past that never healed right. I urged her to see a doctor, but she refused immediately. If I hadn’t promised not to bring up other medical care she wouldn’t have let me continue treating her. That bastard had beaten her up so many times she could hardly even hold anything anymore.”</p><p>His fingers tighten in the linens beside him. He remembers wanting to go down there and fuck him up so badly. Thoughts about his parole hadn’t even crossed his mind.</p><p>Mickey pulls his hips roughly further down and spreads his legs so wide his ass tilts up, allowing Mickey to dive deeper.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” he cries out in response, feeling the blood rush down to his dick. “Mickey,” he stammers unsure. Mickey simply twists his tongue with more enthusiasm in reply, holding Ian down when the sensation makes him jerk away a little. Ian continues describing the happenings of this afternoon, breathing heavily in between. “I told her there are… there are support groups that could help her. You know domestic abuse can be found everywhere, but South Side...” He exhales on a shaky breath. “We have pamphlets in our kits… She dismissed them immediately… And I asked her to at least have a look… You know what she said? ‘There is a typo on page 3. They misspelled domestic,’” Ian laughs mirthlessly. “The roof, it looked like she went there regularly to get away from her husband… Had a pack of cigarettes stashed away…” He says, holding his breath subconsciously. “I told her I could help her...”</p><p>He throws his arm over his eyes, though the image is still burned clearly into his mind.</p><p>“She smiled at me… But her eyes looked so sad, Mick...” Ian’s voice trembles, Mickey’s tongue licking the inside of his walls. “She was really pretty… Long black hair, brown eyes… Even with all the cuts and bruises she had a really pretty smile...” He sighs. “While I treated her she noticed my wedding band… Asked about you...”</p><p>The air is getting thinner and it seems as if everything might just push over the edge if he so much as let out another word. He feels Mickey’s tongue retreating and immediately a finger enters him, expelling the air out of his lungs.</p><p>“Hold your legs up for me,” Mickey prompts, pulling at his arm. It takes him a moment to follow the request before he moves both his arms to his legs, holding himself open. It’s bordering on too much. He feels too exposed and just wants to shy away until Mickey pushes against that spot and suddenly he can’t think about anything other than the blinding sensation. “Tell me what she said,” Mickey calls him back to attention while continuing to massage his prostrate.</p><p>“She wanted to know if I was happy being married…” He breathes out shakily.</p><p>Mickey hums in response. “What did you reply?”</p><p>“Told her it was too soon to tell… We’ve only been married for three weeks…” Ian laughs and hears Mickey join him. “She liked that we’re gay… Apparently there weren’t many… out couples in her village in Columbia when she left.” The next thought sobers him up immediately again. “Turns out she wasn’t actually married to that asshole… She didn’t have a green card... and he was dangling marriage over her head the whole time… Threatened to report her if she called… the police on him.”</p><p>Mickey enters a second finger, still concentrating on Ian’s prostrate, stimulating Ian’s precum out. He licks along the perineum, listening to Ian groan heavily in response.</p><p>What happened next leaves Ian paralyzed thinking about. He wishes he had acted differently. Said the right things. Acted quicker. Hell, he wishes he could turn time back to this morning, deciding to stay in and never leave his bed. He feels Mickey’s hand brushing over his side, easing the tense muscles.</p><p>“She moved to the brick wall and climbed on the ledge… I don’t even remember why I… I wasn’t quicker to realize what she was doing… In one moment she was right next to me and the next she was… facing four stories down… I pleaded with her to let me help her down, but she wouldn’t let me come closer…” The tears start pricking his eyes and he stares helplessly to the ceiling. “She told me that she believed the most important thing in life is a reason to exist… She had come here to help send money back for her sick mother… She fell in love with a man, thought she’d start a family here… Live a good life...” He says sobbing, not even noticing Mickey had stopped, is merely listening at this point. “And even when he started beating her, she still clung to the comfort of knowing she was supporting her mother… So she worked on the side, hoped her man would leave enough for her to send back, let him beat her, knowing she was doing something worthwhile…” Ian is lost in the memories of this afternoon, like a movie projected on the ceiling. “She asked me if I ever hurt you…” He exhales shakily. “I-I told her no…“ He clears his throat when his voice leaves him. “I think she knew I lied…“ There was just no way of explaining that Mickey and he sometimes communicated differently when they didn’t know how to express themselves with words. She was ready to jump and he didn’t want to upset her. It’s different, but Ian can’t help but think that it might just also be a little the same. And maybe that was the reason he lied. “The reason he beat her today was because she had sent money to Columbia behind his back for her mother’s funeral… In that moment I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to talk her down… I begged her anyway… I told her I would help her… I’d do anything… She smiled and thanked me… And then-” Ian hides behind his hands.</p><p>“Fuck, Ian,” Mickey says stunned, moving up.</p><p>“I should have never let her up on that ledge.”</p><p>“Hey, look at me,” Mickey beckons, pulling at his hands.</p><p>“Please don’t tell me none of this is my fault,” Ian says exhausted.</p><p>“Do I even need to?” He replies, cupping his head, studying his face. “We both know who exactly is to blame here.”</p><p>“If I hadn’t been in shock, I would have bludgeoned him to death,” Ian swears, certain of it. “Fuck.”</p><p>“Would’ve deserved it,” Mickey states, shrugging slightly.</p><p>“I can’t get her out of my head,” Ian whispers, forcing himself to meet Mickey’s eyes.</p><p>“She wanted to go, Ian. She deserved to go and leave that bastard behind her. This is not about you.”</p><p>“But if I just convinced her… I was the one on the roof with her,” Ian counters, shaking his head.</p><p>“Maybe,” Mickey muses. “But then she might have ended up another couple years with that asshole, getting beat up, suffering pointlessly.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“Ian, this is not about you,” he repeats emphatically and Ian seems to collapse under his words.</p><p>“I felt like I was suffocating. Don’t even know how I got back home,” he says, thinking back how overwhelmed he was by the incident. The only other thought Ian had allowed in was Mickey. “I just- I want to feel you.”</p><p>Ian cups Mickey’s head above him. Needing the contact he pulls him down, pressing their bodies together, folding his legs around Mickey’s hips.</p><p>“Not like that,” Mickey sighs, shaking his head. He pulls one of Ian’s hands away.</p><p>“Why is this such a problem for you? I’m just asking to bottom this once. It’s not like you never topped before,” Ian exclaims frustrated.</p><p>“Because to bottom is hot and fun and it feels fucking incredible. It’s not meant to punish you,” Mickey explains patiently.</p><p>“I don’t want-”</p><p>“Yes, you do,” Mickey cuts him off sternly. “Look, you wanna bottom in the future when your head is in the right place, I’ll happily fuck you till Sunday come. But not like this. You wanna feel me, you can feel me. Like you always do.”</p><p>This feels awfully like rejection to Ian. It makes him angry and frustrated. But he knows if he fucked Mickey like this now, he’d be punishing Mickey instead. The last thing he wants to do after today is let his anger out on Mickey.</p><p>“What now then?” Ian asks resigned.</p><p>Mickey tilts his head in mock thought. “We never got to do one of these long, drawn-out make-out sessions when we were young. How about it?”</p><p>Ian snorts in response, the tension leaving his body just like that. “You sound like a teenage pussy.”</p><p>“Who’s the one that told me not to be afraid to kiss you?” Mickey shrugs, raising his eyebrows expectantly.</p><p>“<em>I</em> am afraid. You just ate me out,” Ian points out, cringing his nose. He feels bone tired, but he has to admit just lying there, kissing his husband sounds really good.</p><p>“Don’t be a bitch,” Mickey simply replies, but gets up, most probably to down a bottle of mouthwash. Ian doesn’t let him go far and pulls him back down on top of him.</p><p>“C’mere,” he beckons and kisses him.</p><p>It’s a nice and lazy kiss shared lying next to each other. The occasional fingers caressing cheeks or brushing through hair. And while the memories and vexing doubts are still at the back of his mind, it’s no longer drowning him. He’s tired but he can breathe again. It’s warm in Mickey’s arms, but he’s not suffocating anymore.</p><p>“Thank you,” Ian breathes against Mickey’s lips.</p><p>“Just doin’ my job,” Mickey replies, cupping Ian’s face, gazing into his eyes. Ian places his hand on Mickey’s and brushes his thumb against the wedding band. If he could go back in time, among the many things he’d have done differently, one of them would have been telling her when asked that, yes, he is so very fucking happy being married.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 2 - Family</p><p> </p><p>Morning sex is all fun and good, but now Ian’s running late for work. They should have just done it in the shower, would have been more efficient time wise, but the hot water rarely lasts long enough and Mickey riding him is decidedly one of his favorite positions, so he wasn’t going to miss out on that. He runs down the stairs, plopping down on the lower steps to put his shoes on.</p><p>“You okay watching Franny today? Got a double shift,” Ian asks Mickey who is currently making a peanut butter sandwich.</p><p>“Yo, big day planned,” Mickey replies, absently noticing how Ian is eyeing his sandwich. “You are not getting my breakfast! This is literally the last peanut butter, literally the last of everything,” Mickey exclaims, roughly and pointedly opening the fridge to show the sorry remains consisting of a chunk of butter, one cup of jello, and two bottles of beer. Quite frankly even Mickey’s toast looks pathetic, there’s barely any peanut butter on it.</p><p>“Carl said he’d go shopping later,” Ian says, writing PB on the grocery list tucked to the fridge. He tries to sneak around to get his hands on the sandwich, when Mickey slaps him away, holding the butter knife up.</p><p>“Don’t make me a widower,” Mickey dares him challenging.</p><p>Ian holds his hands up in surrender, moving to put his jacket on instead. “So, what are you guys doing today?”</p><p>“Sandy had promised red chipmunk over there to go visit her mom, but now she’s tied up in a settlement hearing and managed to dump her on me instead,” Mickey complains, obnoxiously scratching around the empty peanut butter jar.</p><p>“Settlement hearing? What did she do?”</p><p>“Broke her OBGYN’s wrist when the fucker got too handsy on her check-up,” Mickey explains casually.</p><p>“Jesus,” Ian replies. “How did she get you to cover for her?”</p><p>“Asked me in front of the kid. Pulled the whole pity routine on me,” Mickey reiterates annoyed. “How am I supposed to say no when she looks at me all-” He makes a random gesture in front of his face.</p><p>“Careful, people find out you have a soft spot and it’ll chip on your street cred’,” Ian warns. Not to say he isn’t amused how Franny has managed to wrap Mickey around her little finger.</p><p>“I’ve already lost it all when I married into this pussy family,” Mickey laments, begrudgingly tossing the jar to the side when he’s finally accepted he’s not going to get more out of it.</p><p>Franny trots into the kitchen with her empty plate, stopping in front of Mickey’s legs. She holds the plate up to him, looking at his sandwich.</p><p>“No! No! You already had yours!” Mickey denies vehemently. Franny just looks at him patiently. “Don’t- don’t you start looking at me like that!” She’s not even doing anything, she merely stares at him expectantly, Ian notes. “This is what I’m talking about!” He shouts frustrated at Ian. He struggles another five seconds trying to win the staring contest with Franny before he capitulates and turns around cutting the toast in two, switching the plate with Franny’s empty one. Satisfied, Franny walks back to the living room to sit down in front of the TV. “I hate your family,” he says emphatically bobbing his head.</p><p>Ian purses his lips, not trying to show his amusement.</p><p>“Not a word,” Mickey warns. He grabs his #1 mug from next to the sink and pours himself the last of the coffee. “What are you even still doing here? Don’t you need to catch the L?”</p><p>Ian makes a non-committal gesture, slowly stepping closer to Mickey. He pulls his empty travel mug from behind his back, holding it up without a word. Mickey’s eyes travel from the mug to Ian’s face twice until he gets it.</p><p>“No!” He says outraged. “I’m not giving you my coffee! Fuck off!”</p><p>Deciding to take a page from Franny’s book, he just keeps looking at Mickey.</p><p>“I know what you’re doing! ‘S not gonna work! You’re not gonna start some fuckin’ ginger alliance against me!” Ian tilts his head a little, still just looking at him. He starts counting in his head.</p><p>One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.</p><p>“Fine! Take the damn coffee. I’ll just skip breakfast altogether! See if I care,” Mickey concedes, brusquely putting his mug on the counter. “CHIPMUNK! We’re leaving!” He shouts, grabbing his jacket. Ian watches him stomping to the sofa, unceremoniously grabbing Franny around her midsection with one arm and picking up her backpack with the other. Franny’s limps are dangling down where Mickey is holding her at his side like a purse. Unperturbed she keeps eating the last half of Mickey’s peanut butter sandwich and lets herself be carried around. Mickey grumbles obscenities under his breath when he realizes the front door is still barricaded. He outright kicks the dresser away and storms out the front door. “CAN SOMEONE FIX THE GODDAMN DOOR ALREADY?!”</p><p>He’s got to work on his game. Franny has him beat by three seconds at the moment. He notes down coffee on the grocery list and underlines it twice for good measure before he heads off to work.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>“So you think they’re getting suspicious?” Ian asks Carl, helping him put away the groceries.</p><p>“Yeah, think so. Can’t have my cover blown,” he says sighing.</p><p>“Think they’d do something to you?” Ian knows Carl can take care of himself, but he is still concerned.</p><p>“Probably,” he replies shrugging.</p><p>“Better not let them find out then,” Ian says, patting him on the shoulder when Lip walks in.</p><p>“Yo, thought you had a double today?” Lip greets, ruffling Carl’s hair who flips him off in return.</p><p>“Truck broke down. Can’t get any shifts until it’s fixed,” he answers sighing, sitting down at the kitchen table with a beer. “Water and electric bills are due too…”</p><p>A quick glance into the squirrel fund has Lip furrow his forehead. “We’ll have Tami flirt with the locksmith, see if she can get him to do it for free. I’ll ask for an advance at work. We make sure the electric bill is paid now, wait for the first notice on the other. Worst case scenario we shower at V and Kev’s for a while.”</p><p>“Sounds like a plan,” Ian agrees.</p><p>“Here,” Carl says, throwing a few crumpled bills into the squirrel fund. “Managed to steal the formula. That shit is fucking expensive. Left a little on the grocery money.”</p><p>“Thanks. We’re gonna keep this a secret from Tami, alright?” Lip says. Tami isn’t too fond of the Gallagher way and has been on Lip’s case for a while now. Ian doesn’t think they can afford being selective where their money is coming from at the moment, Carl’s right, diapers and formula <em>are</em> fucking expensive.</p><p>“Whatever,” Carl agrees.</p><p>“Where is your worse half?” Lip inquires, putting the can back into the cupboard.</p><p>“Still out with Franny. Went to visit Debbie.”</p><p>“Cool. Tell him to pass my thanks along to Iggy,” he says, throwing keys for Ian to catch.</p><p>“You borrowed Iggy’s car?” Ian asks annoyed.</p><p>“Technically I borrowed yours. Iggy’s wedding gift to you guys,” Lip replies shrugging.</p><p>“Which I didn’t accept. It’s obviously a stolen car! I’m not accepting a stolen car!” He scoffs incredulously.</p><p>“It’s a piece of shit. The police isn’t gonna start circling South Side to look for it. Besides I have full confidence in the Milkovichs’ family business. They know how to replace plates.”</p><p>“I might consider marrying a Milkovich. They have bomb wedding traditions,” Carl chimes in, referring to the standard gift whenever somebody is getting married in the Milkovich family. “Think they could steal me a car, too?”</p><p>“Guys, stop borrowing my in-law’s cars!” Ian shouts exasperated.</p><p>“Get over it. We need a car. Take the car,” Lip says easily.</p><p>“Why did you even need it today?”</p><p>“Had to drive Freddie to his check-up.”</p><p>“What about Tami’s car?” He asks expectantly.</p><p>“Needs fixin’,” Lip answers, starting to prepare dinner.</p><p>“You’re a mechanic,” Ian points out incredulously.</p><p>“A mechanic with no money. Can’t fix shit without parts.”</p><p>Ian wants to argue further, really not comfortable with accepting a stolen car when they are interrupted by Mickey walking in through the back door, Franny fast asleep on Mickey’s shoulder.</p><p>“Hey,” he greets to the room in general. He leans down to Ian, shares a quick kiss.</p><p>“How did it go?” Ian asks. These meetings are usually pretty rough on Franny. It’s always hard to tear her away from her mother when visitation is over.</p><p>“Good news, Debbie’s hearing has been set to next week,” Mickey informs, earning a collective cheer from everyone in return.</p><p>“When?” Lip asks excitedly.</p><p>“Tuesday.”</p><p>“I’ll find somebody to switch shifts,” Lip muses out loud.</p><p>“I’ll call in sick,” Carl says easily.</p><p>“You?” Mickey asks Ian.</p><p>“Out of work at the moment,” he replies and quickly follows up when Mickey furrows his eyebrows. “Truck is in the shop. No shifts for the unforeseeable time.”</p><p>“Shit. Water and electric bills are due, too,” Mickey points out.</p><p>“We’ve got it covered,” he states simply. “What about you?”</p><p>“Nelson’s afraid of me, he won’t say shit as long as I make up for the missed hours,” he replies from the living room where he is currently putting Franny down on the sofa.</p><p>“Just leaves us with the question of transportation,” Carl says, pointedly looking at Ian. Ian can hear Lip chuckling from behind him.</p><p>“I’m not taking the bus again,” Mickey insists fed up, grabbing a beer from the fridge and settling down next to Ian and Carl. “We’ll take the car,” he says, looking at Lip who he lent the car keys last.</p><p>“Your husband has something to say to that,” Lip replies amused.</p><p>“Are you still on this?” He asks annoyed.</p><p>“Yeah, Mickey, I still have something against grand theft auto,” Ian responds, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“You really want us all to drive up there in a bus without air ventilation and an antsy toddler in tow when we have a perfectly working car out front?”</p><p>“Fine! But after this, I will personally return the car,” Ian gives in reluctantly.</p><p>“You’re my favorite in-law,” Carl whispers not so quietly when he passes Mickey on his way to the kitchen where he decides to steal a strip of chicken out of the pan, tossing the rest back after a bite when he realizes it’s not done yet.</p><p>“Keep that a secret from Tami, too,” Lip chuckles good-naturedly.</p><p>“Please, she knows,” Carl scoffs unconcerned.</p><p>Mickey grins self-satisfied, nursing his beer.</p><p>“This morning you still hated my family,” Ian points out.</p><p>“Just the red-heads,” Mickey replies easily and throws a glance at Lip. “And that one.”</p><p>Lip and Mickey flip each other off and Ian can’t help but think how easily Mickey has insinuated himself in his family. Sure, they’ve known each other for a long time now, lived briefly together before as well, but Mickey seems to have naturally carved a spot for himself in this crazy ass family. He gets along especially well with Carl, no surprise there. Although Lip and he insist on pretending not to like each other, he’s pretty sure it’s just banter. Knows Mickey is helping him with the renovation occasionally. Liam enjoys somebody being in the house when he comes home despite his nonchalant attitude and it helps that Mickey likes the same basketball team. He’s caught them on the couch watching a game together a few times now. And Franny has already started calling him Uncle Mickey. He’s truly married his in-laws alongside Ian. Maybe that is what it means to be a husband. He will never under threat of torture admit this out loud, but seeing Mickey get along with his family is giving him tingly feels.</p><p>Mickey looks at him questioningly, having caught him staring.</p><p>“Lip,” he calls without looking behind him. “How long until dinner is ready?”</p><p>“20-30 minutes tops? Why?”</p><p>He raises a suggestive brow at Mickey who catches on quickly and smirks back.</p><p>“I’m gonna have Mickey have a look at something real quick,” he replies casually, both of them getting up to head up the stairs. They hear a collective groan coming from behind them, Carl retching for emphasis.</p><p>Mickey turns around just to be a little shit and says, “He means his dick.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Ian is happy to note the front door has been fixed when he comes home. He was just at the bank and wired the outstanding electric bill. He had a brief look at his savings account, not sure what he was hoping to see. It’s not like he expected to have someone magically deposit their fortune under his name, the total remaining sadly the bare minimum to keep his account open at the bank. He’s got to start working soon again. Maybe he’ll need to find something else in the meantime. Liam is sleeping on the couch, leaving the rest of the house empty. Franny is at V’s for a play date and Lip and Carl are at work. He doesn’t really know where Mickey is. He had sent him a text earlier, asking about dinner plans, but still hasn’t gotten a reply.</p><p>Looking at Liam, he thinks he’s got it right. A nap sounds wonderful right about now. He’s had trouble getting a good night’s sleep since the incident. Sex tires him out, so he usually doesn’t have trouble falling asleep. It’s just that he wakes up in the middle of the night when his subconscious clings to the events from a few days ago. Having Mickey next to him helps more than he expected and understands. He’s always considered himself to be a rather self-reliant person, but he supposes allowing himself to find comfort in another person is healthy. Especially if it’s Mickey. As scary as it is to think about what would happen if he’d become emotionally dependent and someday he’d walk out on him. But he thinks the misspelled tattoo isn’t too bad of a life long promise. That and their wedding rings.</p><p>Ready to lie down to get some shut eye for a bit, he moves to his bedroom, when he suddenly hears the front door open. He hears Liam startling awake, woken by two pairs of footsteps entering the living room.</p><p>“Your brother home?” Mickey’s voice travels up to the second floor clear as day.</p><p>“Which one? What happened to you?” Liam asks worried.</p><p>“The hot one,” Mickey replies, groaning. Ian listens to a lot of shuffling and bustling, wondering what’s going on.</p><p>He gets out of bed, heading down when he abruptly comes to a stop at the first landing.</p><p>“Nobody is home.”</p><p>“Good, he’d probably rip me a new one if he saw me like this.”</p><p>“Stay, I’ll get a towel,” he hears Carl say.</p><p>“Why are you bleeding?” Liam asks. This is seriously not what Ian expected and definitely not wanted to hear. He turns around to the bathroom to get the first-aid kit, making sure to keep his attention to what’s happening downstairs.</p><p>“Terry?” Liam’s question stops him cold in his tracks.</p><p>Mickey and Carl both laugh in response and it eases Ian’s tension immediately.</p><p>“No, don’t worry,” Mickey answers easily.</p><p>“Operation Mad Dog was a success,” Carl exclaims excitedly.</p><p>Mickey groans a little, thanking his brother for something, but seems otherwise in good spirits.</p><p>“Hell yeah it was!”</p><p>“I’m afraid to even ask,” Liam says upon a weary sigh.</p><p>“Mickey helped me with my problem,” Carl begins explaining. “The guys started to doubt I was one of them. I had to do something to convince them otherwise.”</p><p>“I need a beer. And an ice pack,” Mickey says, grunting in discomfort.</p><p>Ian moves a little further down to get a glimpse at the sofa where he can see Mickey and Liam currently sitting.</p><p>Carl hands Mickey a pack of frozen peas and a bottle of beer and it seems like he’s sitting down on the recliner out of his sight.</p><p>“Yap, much better,” he states happily, sipping at his beer.</p><p>“How did you convince them?”</p><p>“Mickey told me if I needed to seem dirty, I actually had to get my hands dirty,” Carl reiterates.</p><p>“Exactly!”</p><p>“So, what? You guys beat somebody up?”</p><p>“Not somebody,” Mickey corrects casually. “Me.”</p><p>“Wait, you had the guys beat Mickey?” Liam asks confused.</p><p>Ian doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. He better not have heard Carl had put a hit on Mickey.</p><p>“No!” Mickey denies insistently. “I had Carl do it.”</p><p>“We staged this whole extortion play where I was demanding protection money from Mickey. Timed it so the guys would <em>accidentally</em> see me beat Mickey up when he didn’t hand over the cash. It was awesome! Mickey was really into it. Started begging and shit!” Carl illustrates excitedly. “Man, you were fucking incredible!”</p><p>“Fuck, that was fun,” Mickey says laughing, groaning a little bit when his wounds ache in the process. “Gotta say, you were pretty impressive yourself. That whole intimidation bit with the ‘will wear your intestines around my neck’ thing was inspired!”</p><p>Ian can’t believe he’s actually hearing all this. He doesn’t understand how they even come up with this shit.</p><p>“On the off-chance nobody has ever told you this, you’ll need to hear this. You are both insane,” Liam states, shaking his head.</p><p>“Insanely good,” Carl retorts, his hand coming into view for a fist bump with Mickey.</p><p>“How will you explain this to Ian?” Liam asks expectantly.</p><p>Ian would like to know that, too.</p><p>“Yeah, we’re not gonna tell him about Mad Dog,” he snorts, shaking his head.</p><p>“Ian would kill me,” Carl says.</p><p>He’s got that right, Ian thinks. The only reason why he hadn’t gone downstairs yet was to listen to the whole story.</p><p>“And how are you going to hide this from him exactly?”</p><p>“We don’t tell him.”</p><p>Liam looks at them expectantly, holding his hands up.</p><p>“Your face, Mickey. He’s going to see you’ve been in a fight.”</p><p>Silence settles in the living room like a blanket.</p><p>“Let me guess, you did not think that far ahead?” Liam asks them both.</p><p>It’s official now, he’s married to an idiot.</p><p>“Shit, why did you have to hit my face?” Mickey laments.</p><p>“Are you telling me you have sex with clothes on? It doesn’t matter where I hit you!” Carl counters back.</p><p>“Shit,” Mickey swears.</p><p>“We’ve gotta come up with a story,” Carl says frantically.</p><p>“I’m not gonna lie to Ian,” Mickey sighs.</p><p>His husband has no qualms getting beat up for sports but he doesn’t lie. At least something.</p><p>“When will he be home?” Carl asks.</p><p>“No idea,” Mickey replies. “But you better be fast and wipe the blood off the baseball bat. He doesn’t need to know all the details.”</p><p>“You fucking beat him with a baseball bat?” Ian shouts, storming down the stairs.</p><p>“Shit!” Mickey cries out, elongating the word, clearly startled. “Since when have you been home?”</p><p>“Since before you! The fuck were you guys thinking?” He demands, moving closer to get a better look at Mickey. He has a split lip, a bruised eye, and a small cut on his nose.</p><p>“Hey, look,” Mickey says sheepishly, holding his hands up appeasing. “I was just helping out the kid. I’m fine.”</p><p>Ian hopes the look he gives him is more than clear. He does not want to hear his bullshit. He opens the first-aid kit and starts attending to the wounds.</p><p>“Don’t be mad, <em>ow</em>,” Mickey cries out under Ian’s rough ministrations. “I’m sorry, okay!”</p><p>“What the fuck were you thinking?” Ian turns to Carl.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but he really helped me out today. They all believed it was real. I’m in the clear,” Carl tries to explain.</p><p>“Why did you not at the very least pull your punches? You didn’t actually have to hit him,” Ian points out.</p><p>“I did in the beginning, but then Mickey whispered to me, and I quote, ‘stop hitting like a pussy, nobody is going to believe shit, if you don’t start drawing blood.’”</p><p>Ian stares at Mickey in disbelief.</p><p>“Well, it’s true,” Mickey mutters defensively.</p><p>“I can’t believe you let Carl beat the shit out of you.”</p><p>“It’s ghetto 101, you need instant street cred, fastest way is to beat somebody up publicly. And I know how to take a punch,” Mickey explains carefully, earning a hard dab to his split lip where Ian is currently disinfecting. He pushes Ian’s hand away, grimacing when the motion pulls on another wound. Ian pulls Mickey’s shirt up only to find a big bruise on his right ribcage.</p><p>“That looks worse than it is,” Mickey says.</p><p>Ian just shakes his head incredulously, silently palpating the injured skin.</p><p>“You need to get an x-ray. Your ribs could be broken. You could be bleeding internally.”</p><p>“Relax, my ribs are fine. I’ve had enough broken ribs in my lifetime to know what it feels like,” Mickey says quickly.</p><p>“You better not have killed my husband.” Ian shoots Carl a glare.</p><p>“Hey, c’mon, chill out. I’m fine. I know it, you know it,” Mickey says laughing. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but the whole thing was really fun.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Carl agrees grinning. “Once when I kicked him, he did this whole side spin. Like in the movies!”</p><p>Mickey looks at him, cocky, broadly smiling and winking at him. It’s completely disarming.</p><p>Ian huffs out a weak laugh. “Yeah? What else did he do?”</p><p>It’s all Carl needs to hear to jump into the story, enthusiastically retelling the events of this afternoon, embellishing here and there, Ian is sure. Mickey pulls him to his side, throwing an arm over his shoulder and interrupts Carl occasionally to add his version. He has to admit it really does sound like they had a lot of fun. He’d still prefer Mickey not getting injured, but it is a creative solution to Carl’s problem, he supposes.</p><p>“You’re really too much,” he whispers to Mickey, sighing.</p><p>“Nothing wrong with a little fun, right?” Mickey whispers back, reminding Ian of his own words, proving Ian’s not the only one remembering fond memories.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Tuesday comes quickly and they’re all nervously getting ready in the morning. Ian’s almost more nervous than he was at his own hearing. Given how often they’ve been through this now, he’d think it would get easier. He pours himself a cup of coffee, sipping distractedly at it while Liam and Lip are eating cereal at the kitchen table.</p><p>“Any left?” Carl asks, nodding to his mug when he enters the kitchen.</p><p>Ian nods, grabbing the coffee pot to pour some for Carl.</p><p>“Don’t take Mickey’s mug,” he warns as Carl is looking into the cupboard.</p><p>“Chill your tits, Bitch #2,” he retorts, settling on a Starbucks cup somebody in the family had stolen years ago.</p><p>“We’ve gotta leave here in twenty minutes,” Lip says. “Everyone ready?”</p><p>The three brothers nod as Mickey walks down the stairs. Ian pours him coffee and Mickey takes the mug gratefully out of his hand.</p><p>“Ready?” He asks into the room.</p><p>Franny walks in from the living room, jacket and backpack already on.</p><p>“When are we leaving?” She demands expectantly. She’s wearing a black and blue striped sweater above her gray leggings and pink ballerinas.</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Mickey asks incredulously. “You want her to go like this?”</p><p>“What’s wrong with her?” Ian replies. To him she looks just fine.</p><p>Mickey stares at them as if they were all crazy.</p><p>“She can’t look like this is in front of the judge. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” He grabs Franny and sits her down on the bar chair. “The only time as a kid I was ever squeaky clean and had clothes on without any tears or blood stains was in court at my father’s hearings. Pops would have us all neatly primped sitting front row right in perfect eye line to the judge. You gotta play the toddler card as long as possible. Why do you think I have so many siblings? Hell, sometimes we’d have our cousins sit in on the hearings if they were young enough pretending to be one of us.”</p><p>He pulls Franny’s hair tie off, grabs another from her backpack, and then starts fiddling around with her hair.</p><p>“What the fuck are you doing?” Lip asks stupefied.</p><p>“Are you braiding her hair?” Carl’s eyes almost pop out.</p><p>Mickey has parted Franny’s hair into two partitions and is now braiding the first one.</p><p>“You think you can just pull her hair out of her face and that’s it? She needs to look as young and innocent as possible. Calls for pig tails.”</p><p>“Dude,” Ian says as thrown as his siblings by the sight in front of them.</p><p>“Where did you learn how to braid?” Liam asks.</p><p>“That’s a bit gay,” Ian can’t help but say. Lip snorts out a laugh.</p><p>“Bite me, assholes,” Mickey shoots back. “Mandy wouldn’t go anywhere without braids as a kid. If we didn’t do her hair, she’d scream the house down. And then Terry would beat the shit out of us. All my brothers can do it,” he explains defensively.</p><p>“So, not just the gay one,” Carl says, smirking.</p><p>Mickey flips him off after tying the first tail.</p><p>“So, wait,” Ian starts. “Terry would try influencing the judge by having you in court as kids?”</p><p>“Try? The bastard never got maximum sentence with us around. As soon as Mandy started her whole routine, the prosecutor knew it was over.” He laughs, fondly remembering old times. “Which brings me to you,” he says, turning his attention to Franny. “What’s your skill set?”</p><p>Franny looks up at him confused.</p><p>“Your repertoire? Mine were the baby blues,” he points to his eyes, grinning. “Gotta make them pop when you look at the judge. Can you cry on cue? Wobble your lip nervously when the judge looks over? Run up to your mom when the prosecutor talks about sentencing like you don’t know any better? What about the timbre of your voice? Do you know how to let your voice break just at the right moment when you cry out for dear mommy? Any friends who could lend you their diabetes bracelet for today?”</p><p>“Jesus,” Ian exclaims horrified.</p><p>“What? How do you not know how to do this shit? Half your family has been in prison. Are you fucking amateurs?”</p><p>“I think he’s right,” Carl chimes in. “Would a band-aid work, too?”</p><p>“It’ll do. Put it somewhere visible on her face. We’ll pretend she’s developed a nervous scratching tick since her mom’s in jail,” he confirms, nodding for Carl to go get band-aids. Mickey finishes the second braid and regards her clothes disdainfully. “Yeah, you’ll need to get changed. C’mon,” he says, helping her down. He looks at Ian and Lip, shaking his head disappointedly and vanishes up the stairs with Franny.</p><p>“Sometimes I wonder about our upbringing and then Mickey says something and it leaves me insanely grateful for Frank and Monica,” Lip says, placing his bowl in the sink.</p><p>“Tell me about it,” Ian replies.</p><p>“Think he’s been hugged enough as a kid?” Liam wonders, joining his brothers behind the counter, all three still watching the spot where Mickey had disappeared upstairs.</p><p>“Hell no,” they agree in unison.</p><p>Ten minutes later Mickey and Carl return with Franny now wearing a white t-shirt with unicorn print on it and a denim skirt on top of her previous leggings. She has band-aids scattered on her arms and legs, one on the bridge of her nose. Her face framed neatly by her braided pig tails.</p><p>“Really?” Ian asks.</p><p>“Trust me, this will work,” Mickey replies, helping Franny putting on her backpack.</p><p>“She looks cute,” Liam says.</p><p>“It’s always good to have someone in the family who’s gay,” Lip states, patting Ian on the back. Ian rolls his eyes, not rising to the bait.</p><p>He has to admit Liam is right, Franny does look cute, more so than usual. And he gets the innocent angle Mickey was going for. It should definitely not hurt to emphasize to the judge that they are ruling over a single mother with her cute kid watching in the audience. He’s gonna trust Mickey’s judgment on this one.</p><p>The drive up to the court house is uneventful, except for the moment where Franny finds a bong under the seat, clearly the belongings of the previous owners. Which leads to another heated argument about getting rid of the car where he is again completely ganged up against.They wait for quiet some time in the seating area before it’s Debbie’s turn. Mickey is watching the other court hearings attentively and is expressing his approval concerning the residing judge.</p><p>“Jackpot, the old fuck clearly has grandchildren,” he says, gesturing to the colorful braided bracelet around his wrist. “And I saw him smiling at Franny when he noticed her. We’ve got this, easy.”</p><p>When Debbie is finally called in, it’s a sight for sore eyes. She looks tired, but otherwise fine and in good spirits. Inconspicuously, Mickey hits Franny’s arm softly and she springs up in response.</p><p>“Mommy,” she calls out, looking at her mother worriedly.</p><p>“Franny, sweetie,” Debbie says, relief visibly washing over her seeing her daughter in the audience.</p><p>The judge’s usual stoic face softens incrementally and he gently orders for prosecution to begin. From his peripheral view he can see Mickey grinning just the slightest bit, Carl too. He lifts Franny back onto his lap and pulls her hand away from where she started scratching close to the band-aid. He wonders just how much Mickey managed to prep her.</p><p>The proceedings hit a rocky patch when Julia starts shamelessly and explicitly describing all the sexual relations she had with Debbie, clearly just to piss her mother off who is sitting on the other side of the seating area. When the prosecutor proposes four years of prison sentence, Mickey goes so far to pinch Franny in the leg, who in turn starts sobbing, garnering the attention of the judge. Ian’s eyes almost pop out by Mickey’s audacity. He kicks his leg pointedly, obscured by the bench row in front of them.</p><p>“Cut the crap!” He whispers, almost jumping out of his skin.</p><p>“Do you want Franny to be nine when her mom is released?” Mickey hisses back.</p><p>The public prosecutor counters with two years on parole.</p><p>“That’s why these dipshits fresh out of law school are no good. He could have gone with 18 months,” Mickey swears under his breath.</p><p>In the end the judge sentences Debbie to two years and three months with the option of parole after three months. He hits the gavel and then looks sympathetically toward Franny.</p><p>“Yes!” Mickey exclaims satisfied.</p><p>It’s actually good news. As long as Debbie stays under the radar she’ll be out of prison in three months. The brothers slap each other’s back congratulatory, falling into each other’s arms. They move forward to the railing and the judge allows Debbie to take a moment to say goodbye to her daughter.</p><p>“Mommy,” Franny cries out, holding onto her like a monkey. Debbie hugs her as best as the shackles allow, kissing her head affectionately.</p><p>“Hey, sweetie, you’ve been such a good girl,” she says, embracing her tightly.</p><p>“Can you come home now?” Franny asks with tears in her eyes.</p><p>“Not quiet yet,” she answers apologetically which immediately has Franny cry in response.</p><p>“She’ll be home soon, Franny,” Lip tries soothing her.</p><p>“Three months is a piece of cake. You’ll be out in no time,” Mickey tells Debbie.</p><p>“I actually didn’t think I would get away so easily,” Debbie says relieved. She turns her attention to Franny. “What’s wrong with your face,” Debbie asks concerned, looking her daughter over. “Did you get hurt?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, she’s fine,” Carl says, removing one of the band-aids on her arm, revealing healthy skin. “All part of the plan.” He winks.</p><p>“I think you have Franny and Mickey to thank for today’s outcome,” Lip replies amused. “Ian married a stage director apparently.”</p><p>Debbie just looks confused and Mickey shakes his head dismissively.</p><p>“Don’t ask,” Ian responds to her questioning look.</p><p>When it’s time to leave Debbie, Franny starts turning hysteric, refusing to let go of her.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Franny, I need to go,” she says pained, trying to coax her into releasing her. Franny just continues to cry harder, sobbing into her prison uniform.</p><p>“You’ll see her soon. You just gotta be patient a little while longer.” Ian tries getting his arms around her.</p><p>“No,” Franny sobs, shaking her head stubbornly.</p><p>“I promise we’ll visit her as soon as we can,” Lip tries.</p><p>“Please, Franny,” Debbie pleads, kissing the top of her head.</p><p>“C’mon, Chipmunk,” Mickey says softly. “Remember what we discussed?”</p><p>Franny looks at him sadly, for a moment it looks like she’d refuse him, but then she gives in, hugs her mother, and kisses her neck. “I’ll be a good girl and wait for you. I’ll eat my veggies and listen to my uncles. I love you,” she says as if rehearsed and then lets Ian take her out of her mom’s arms.</p><p>Debbie throws an incredulous look at Mickey, probably wondering what she’s missed in the time she was gone.</p><p>“Seriously, you guys suck. You’ve gotta have a game plan for these types of situations,” Mickey says.</p><p>“Hopefully, this will be the last time,” Lip responds, weary.</p><p>“We’ll have to see how Liam turns out,” Carl jokes.</p><p>“Please, the only reason you’ll ever see me behind this railing is when I’ll be the one waving the gavel,” Liam replies.</p><p>They laugh and say their farewells to Debbie. They wait and watch her disappear through the door at the other side of the room and then leave as well.</p><p>When they walk to the parking lot Ian pulls Mickey out of hearing range from the others.</p><p>“You’ve been quiet the asset today,” he says amused.</p><p>“Well, you know, Milkovich upbringing,” Mickey replies, scratching his forehead absently.</p><p>“Thanks to you Debbie’s gonna be out of prison much sooner than we’d hoped. It means a lot to the family. To me,” he states, slowing down.</p><p>“My family too now, right?” Mickey responds easily, coming to a stop next to Ian.</p><p>Ian nods, reaching out to cup Mickey’s face. Mickey truly has become part of his family.</p><p>“Are you gonna kiss me or what?” Mickey asks, smirking.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ian replies, happily obliging.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>“Yo, rainbow,” Ian hears Iggy call him. He’s walking up to the fence’s gate, flipping his cigarette to the sidewalk.</p><p>“Hi Iggy,” Ian greets, standing up from the front steps.</p><p>“How’s my little brother? Still taking it up the ass?” Iggy asks, imitating crude thrusting motions.</p><p>“He’s fine. Likes to stage fights with his brother-in-law, but otherwise all good,” he shares shrugging, hands still burrowed in his jacket pockets.</p><p>“Sounds like Mickey,” Iggy replies, grinning.</p><p>“Thanks for the car,” he says, holding out the keys.</p><p>“Sure you don’t wanna keep it? It’s all paid off,” Iggy asks, smirk on his face.</p><p>“About that. I’d like to accept your wedding gift,” he answers, if somewhat reluctant.</p><p>“Oh? Thought you’re too good for a stolen car.”</p><p>“Well, when I married Mickey, I married into the Milkovich family, too. Maybe it’s time I accept <em>some</em> of your family traditions.”</p><p>“Can’t believe he married a fucking Gallagher,” Iggy says. “Welcome to the family, bro.”</p><p>“Thanks and thanks for the car,” he replies, pocketing the keys again.</p><p>Iggy starts scabbing the ground nervously.</p><p>“Look, you gotta be careful,” he starts, throwing a glance around his shoulder. “Pops hasn’t been at his usual drinking spots lately.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” Ian inquires, alert.</p><p>“Means he’s too busy with other stuff to indulge in his favorite pastime. And since he hasn’t pulled us on board on whatever illegal shit he’s working on, I think it has something to do with Mickey,” he explains, scratching his temple.</p><p>Ian nods, already trying to gauge what this information will mean for him and Mickey.</p><p>“Any ideas on what he’s planning?”</p><p>“He won’t try anything here. Too many kids around who could eat a stray bullet. He’d never see daylight again, if he shot a kid dead. Besides his beef is with you and Mickey, he’ll wait for his chance.”</p><p>“We’ll be careful. Thanks for the warning.” Ian genuinely appreciates Iggy sticking his neck out to warn them.</p><p>“You take care of my brother,” Iggy says. “Or we’ll take care of you.”</p><p>“Got it,” he responds smiling. Contrary to belief there’s actually some love to be found in the Milkovich family.</p><p>“We’ve got an open spot for a drug bust, if you’re game. Now that you’re a Milkovich and all,” Iggy offers, slowly walking out.</p><p>“Think I’ll pass this time,” Ian declines, humoring him.</p><p>“Suit yourself, <em>Gallagher</em>,” he replies, stepping on the sidewalk.</p><p>“Hey! I gotta ask,” Ian shouts after him. “Do you really know how to braid?”</p><p>Iggy huffs amused.</p><p>“French, Dutch, Fishtail… Know how to do them all, motherfucker!” He shouts, flipping him off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave love!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Partner in Crime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 3 - Partner in Crime</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Give me thirty minutes to get things going,” Mickey says.</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>“Don’t drink too much. You need to be sharp,” he continues.</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>“We’ve only got one chance, you gotta have this,” he emphasizes.</p><p>“I said I got it,” Ian replies, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Just making sure,” Mickey responds. He’s slipping off his wedding ring, storing it in his wallet. “C’mere,” he beckons and kisses Ian. “Thirty minutes,” he reminds one more time and opens the car door.</p><p>Ian rolls his eyes again. He checks his phone for the time and then leans back to pull up the only game he has installed. They drove up to a neighborhood a few blocks away and now he’s sitting in his car down the street away from a seedy bar that makes the Alibi look like Olive Garden. He sees a few hookers chat up oncoming cars, a bunch of homeless guys settling in for the night in the alley up front, a drunk pissing next to a junkie currently getting his next fix. It’s truly Chicago at its most glamorous. He’s not really paying attention to the game he’s playing and finds himself losing for the fourth time in a row now. He closes the app and checks his texts instead. Mickey had sent him a stupid personality quiz titled <em>Find out which breakfast you are</em> with the below message <em>Check this out, I’m bacon – crisp and tasty! Hell yeah!</em> Sometimes Ian wonders what he’s gotten himself hitched to. Maybe it says more about him that he’s chosen a partner like Mickey. Not that the Gallaghers have much of a sophisticated palate, but Mickey is an acquired taste. Last week when the bank teller asked him about his retirement plans Mickey straight out answered <em>Probably gonna rob one of your establishments.</em> Thankfully the teller thought he was just joking and they were able to set up a joint bank account. For all the street smarts Mickey posseses, he’s lacking a fundamental basis of common sense at times. Maybe it’s a good thing Ian is there to keep an eye out for him. But then again, he’s just found out he’s peanut butter – crunchy and nuts.</p><p>He checks the time and decides it’s time to go. Locking the door he slowly makes his way to the bar. When he enters he’s immediately punched in the face by the thick smell of tobacco, alcohol, and sweat permeating the air. It only takes him a few seconds to spot Mickey at the far end. He’s leaned over a pool table, aiming for his shot and Ian thinks he’s too old and too long into this relationship to get aroused by the sight. But apparently he’s not. Mickey’s playing a tattooed up guy about ten years older than them. He moves to the bar, sitting down on one of the high chairs, pool table in view. He orders a beer and settles down, throwing his phone on the counter. Mickey doesn’t give any indication that he’s noticed him, continues playing. He sees him miss some easier shots and furrows his forehead. Ian starts on his beer, takes a breath, and focuses, getting his head into the game.</p><p>He snorts loudly when Tattoo Guy misses to pocket the ball he was aiming for. The guy turns around and Ian raises his beer, acknowledging him in mock greeting. The guy chooses to ignore him and moves to let Mickey at the table for his turn. From there on Mickey pockets three in a row, much to Tattoo Guy’s chagrin. He’s rethinking his earlier assessment when Mickey ends his turn with the white ball in a really tough position, wondering if he actually managed to do that on purpose. Tattoo Guy moves around, trying different angles and positions. Ian pointedly keeps staring at him, tapping his fingers on the counter in an annoying off-beat. Making sure he sees him, he raises his eyebrows expectantly, gesturing to the pool table. Tattoo Guy is clearly annoyed already. He misses and Ian lets out a poorly concealed laugh.</p><p>“You got a problem, asshole?” Tattoo Guy turns around pissed.</p><p>“No, but apparently you do,” he answers. “Is this your first time playing?”</p><p>Mickey snorts out a laugh and smirks unabashedly when Tattoo Guy whips around.</p><p>“How about you mind your own fucking business, ginger bush!”</p><p>Ginger bush, that’s a new one, Ian thinks. He raises his hands, backing off, letting him continue. On the next turn he makes the first shot and Ian claps in response. Tattoo Guy eyes him, seriously starting to get pissed, but Mickey diverts his attention back to the table. He can’t follow up and Mickey sinks his last two, now aiming for the eight ball. The angle is shit and he misses, giving Tattoo Guy another chance to pocket his last ball. He doesn’t make it and Ian huffs amused into his beer.</p><p>“What’s your fucking problem? You’ve got anything to say to me?” He shouts, stepping closer, arms raised.</p><p>“You’re my problem. It physically pains me to watch you play. My kid sister plays better than you,” Ian responds, thinking Debbie probably does play better than that guy.</p><p>“What did you fucking say to me?” Tattoo Guy asks enraged. Mickey steps in, pushes him back before he can go over to Ian.</p><p>“I don’t care what’s going on here, but I’d like to finish up and win my money, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>The guy grinds his teeth, glaring at Ian.</p><p>“You better fucking shut your mouth or I will bash your head in!” He warns, turning around to finish the game.</p><p>Mickey sinks the eight ball and cheers loudly, holding out his hand for Tattoo Guy to pay up. Ian grins, not hiding his amusement one bit.</p><p>“Didn’t know you could make money this easy around here,” he says.</p><p>“I’ve had it with you! You and me outside now!” Tattoo Guy demands, throwing his cue on the table.</p><p>“Sure, I can beat your ass outside where no one can see. Or I can do it right here. Show you how it’s really done. Unless you’re too pussy?” Ian challenges.</p><p>Tattoo Guy stares him down. “Nah, I’d rather kick your teeth in.”</p><p>This is not going according to plan. They have to think of something quickly.</p><p>“Probably the right choice, fucker lost already enough money tonight,” Mickey says to the guys next to him who laugh in response.</p><p>Tattoo Guy turns around, realizing he’s become the joke of the bar.</p><p>“Fine, bring it!” He relents, raising his arms challenging.</p><p>Ian hops down from his chair and joins them at the pool table. He turns to Mickey, expectantly holding out his hand.</p><p>“Think you can handle this, Firecrotch?” Mickey asks, holding out the cue.</p><p>Ian just takes the cue from him without comment, turns around and throws a few crumpled bills onto the table. Tattoo Guy snorts looking at the total.</p><p>“You run your mouth like that and this is it?”</p><p>Mickey and he had divided their money before coming in. This was supposed to be a quick way to make up for the shifts Ian’s missed at work. He doesn’t have more money.</p><p>Tattoo Guy looks at him challenging. He sees the other patrons watching him curiously as well. He slips off his wedding band and tosses it on top of the other bills.</p><p>“Minus the cost of my drink,” Ian says.</p><p>“Dude,” Mickey chimes in, laughing nervously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”</p><p>“’S not like my wife doesn’t make questionable choices herself,” Ian dismisses him and turns to Tattoo Guy. “We’re doing this, or what?”</p><p>Tattoo Guy throws a hundred bucks onto the table and Ian raises his eyebrow challenging. The guy quickly gives in and adds another fifty.</p><p>“Minus my drink,” he repeats, letting Ian know that he’s wagered all of his money as well.</p><p>“Think we can make this more interesting, right, guys?” Mickey turns to the patrons watching them. “How about a friendly pool?”</p><p>Some of the bystanders agree enthusiastically and place their bets, passing the money along to Mickey.</p><p>“Where’s the money?” Ian asks him curiously.</p><p>“9:3 says you’ll get your ass whooped,” Mickey replies grinning.</p><p>Tattoo Guy smirks and starts setting up the table. He begins and sinks a solid. Ian realizes quickly that he might be a bit out of practice. He remembers being good at it when he played last. But that was about ten years ago. And while he used to win most of the time, he was playing mainly against Mandy and Lip. He earns a few mocking quips here and there from the on-watchers and Tattoo Guy especially when he fails to make his shots and he can practically feel Mickey vibrating out of his skin behind him. But thankfully he’s a quick study and picks up fast again, gets back into it and is now only behind by two.</p><p>“Something’s been bothering me all night,” Tattoo Guy muses out loud. Ian forces himself not to share a quick glance with Mickey.</p><p>“Your turn,” Ian says, trying not to engage.</p><p>“You seem real familiar,” the guy says, narrowing his eyes at him.</p><p>“Just another pretty face,” Ian replies, trying to act nonchalant.</p><p>“I know you from somewhere,” he insists, holding his finger up. “Weren’t you on the news some while ago? What was it again…”</p><p>“You have me mixed up-”</p><p>“You’re that gay Jesus guy!” He barks out, garnering the attention of the patrons around them, a couple nodding in agreement.</p><p>Well shit, Ian thinks, this has taken an unexpected turn.</p><p>“Didn’t you say you had a wife?” Tattoo Guy asks, narrowing his eyes.</p><p>“Hey, Red!” The bartender shouts. “Somebody’s tried to call you,” he says, throwing Ian’s phone over.</p><p>He catches his phone and indeed sees a missed call from Lip on his lock screen. The lock screen with Mickey’s picture on it where he holds out his FUCK fist to the camera with one hand, flips it off with the other, and has his tongue sticking out. Ian’s eyes shoot up to Tattoo Guy who’s caught on, eyes flicking from his phone to Mickey.</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>Mickey lunges to the table and grabs the money and Ian’s ring and then shoves Ian along. “RUN!”</p><p>“You fuckers! I will kill you!”</p><p>They storm out the bar, sprinting down the street, followed by Tattoo Guy and a few other patrons whose money Mickey had stolen.</p><p>“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Ian swears, running at full speed.</p><p>“Fuckin’ had to marry a minor celebrity!” Mickey curses, pulling Ian into an alley.</p><p>“I will end you, you little faggots! I will put my fucking clip into your fucking faces, you fucking AIDS monkeys!”</p><p>“I don’t think this will turn into a regular thing!” Mickey quips and then ducks when they hear shots coming from behind them.</p><p>“Fuck!” Ian shouts, trying to steer clear from the bullets.</p><p>They turn into another alley, running away from murder threats and gun shots, and end up crashing into the main street.</p><p>“Keys!” Mickey demands, sliding over the hood of their car.</p><p>Ian tosses them over and shouts for Mickey to fucking hurry up, frantically pulling on the door handle. The guys have caught up, rounding the corner, spotting them climbing into the car. Tattoo Guy starts shooting again, hitting the side window on the back right.</p><p>“Drive, Mickey! Fucking drive!” Ian shouts.</p><p>“What does it look like I’m doing?! I’m driving, I’m driving!” Mickey screams back, tires screeching as he speeds off.</p><p>Another few bullets whistle around them, but don’t hit anything but the road. They’re in the clear when Mickey turns at the next intersection and Ian finally straightens up in his seat, looking over his shoulder.</p><p>“Fuck, that was close!”</p><p>“You think?!” Mickey retorts out of breath, still driving way too fast. “I’ve done this a hundred times, first time I take you with me, I get fuckin’ shot at!”</p><p>“You’re saying this is my fault?!” Ian asks exasperated.</p><p>“Well, I ain’t fuckin’ gay Jesus, am I now?!” Mickey barks back.</p><p>“Oh, shut up!”</p><p>They catch their breaths, let the tension slowly bleed out, relaxing into their seats.</p><p>“Fuckin’ gay Jesus,” Mickey repeats again, without bite this time, and they both burst out laughing.</p><p>“I think I’ve become too famous for small scale scams like that,” Ian points out, still laughing.</p><p>“Anything without you wearing a balaclava is out,” Mickey replies. “Such a shame to have to hide that pretty face, too.”</p><p>Ian laughs and leaps over to kiss him, making Mickey swerve when he can’t see the road.</p><p>“Let’s never do this again,” Ian says.</p><p>“The way you play, it’s out of the question anyway. I thought you said you were good!” Mickey replies incredulously.</p><p>“I just needed to warm up,” Ian responds defensively.</p><p>“I actually had to sink some of his balls <em>accidentally </em>to even the game and keep him in a good mood for you,” Mickey says.</p><p>“Whatever,” Ian replies offhand. “Can’t be seen around there ever again anyway.”</p><p>“Back to minimum wage. At least that will keep Larry happy.”</p><p>“He’s invited you to Sunday barbecue again?” Ian asks amused.</p><p>“How is he still alive? A PO going around inviting hardened criminals to his home,” Mickey says, shaking his head.</p><p>“You know, my colleague told me he’d spend the weekend with his best friend on a movie marathon. What do we do? We look for the guy in the bar with a gun and then royally piss him off,” Ian huffs.</p><p>“No movie will have that much action, I tell you that,” Mickey replies.</p><p>“True, hanging out with you usually ends up in running away from someone, getting into fights, stealing cars, fooling the cops – it’s borderline bad for your health, but it’s certainly never boring,” Ian admits, shaking his head amused.</p><p>“We’re living for the thrill, right,” Mickey muses out loud and it strikes a cord with Ian. It’s one of the things nobody else could give him. He’s never felt more alive as when he’s with Mickey. He absolutely can do without the life-threatening parts, but Mickey has this easy way of taking him for a ride, making even the mundane things in life fun. There’s many people who say they married their best friend and Ian understands why. Having to go through life is hard enough, doing it with your best friend at your side, at least it will never get boring.</p><p>They arrive back at the house, climbing out of the car.</p><p>“How much did we make?” Ian asks.</p><p>“About 300 bucks,” Mickey answers, counting the cash and throwing Ian’s ring over.</p><p>“Not too shabby,” Ian determines, sliding the ring back on. Mickey halts him in his tracks and, suddenly, grabs him by his balls.</p><p>“What the fuck?!” Ian cries out.</p><p>“You ever bet your wedding ring again, I’ll chop these off,” Mickey says, squeezing for good measure.</p><p>“Fuck! Mickey…” Ian grunts out in pain.</p><p>“We clear, sweetie?” Mickey raises his eyebrows, still holding onto Ian’s testicles.</p><p>“Y-Yes, got it!” Ian nods emphatically.</p><p>“Good,” Mickey replies, finally letting go and walking inside.</p><p>Ian can reluctantly admit that he might have deserved that.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Tiredly Ian rubs at his eyes, leaning back against the brick building. He’s just got off a night shift and he’s exhausted. With the truck finally repaired he’s taken a few extra shifts, happy he doesn’t have to resort to bar scams any longer. But nights usually involve getting called in for bar fights and checking in on drunks, determining whether they need to get their stomachs pumped in the hospital or handing them an ibuprofen for the next morning. It’s mostly trying not to get in the middle of a brawl or getting puked on.</p><p>He flicks his cigarette away when he sees Mickey pull up and pushes himself off the building facade.</p><p>“Hey,” he greets, leaning over to kiss Mickey.</p><p>“Hi Uncle Ian,” Franny calls from the back seat.</p><p>“Hi Franny, what’s up?” He pats her leg affectionately.</p><p>“Yo, how was work?” Mickey asks and pulls onto the road.</p><p>“Heroine junkie threw his syringe at me,” Ian answers with a sigh.</p><p>“Got hit?” He asks, looking him over.</p><p>“No, couldn’t aim for shit,” Ian reassures.</p><p>“Hope you got to put your own needles into pin cushion,” Mickey retorts, turning at the intersection.</p><p>“Uncle Mickey is taking me to dance practice,” Franny says, playing with her two teddies.</p><p>“Oh, yeah? Isn’t that nice of <em>Uncle</em> <em>Mickey</em>?” Ian replies turned toward Franny, big grin on his face.</p><p>Mickey rolls his eyes annoyed. “Yeah, because that’s what I do now. Drive kids to dance practice or kindergarten, pick ‘em up from school and drop them off at their basketball games! Fucking school bus driver I turned into!”</p><p>“Language,” Ian chastises. “You dropped Liam off at his game?”</p><p>“Yeah, right before I picked your freckled ass up,” Mickey complains.</p><p>“Ass,” Franny repeats. Ian turns to glare at Mickey.</p><p>“Since when is ass a bad word?” He barks out, Franny immediately echoing him again.</p><p>“See?” Ian points out.</p><p>“Whatever,” Mickey waves him off. “You know what else I gotta do today on my day off? Besides playing soccer mom? Picking up the van for your a-,” he stops himself in time. “Butthole brother.”</p><p>Ian gives him a look, clearly conveying that butthole is not an acceptable alternative.</p><p>“That reminds me, we gotta pick up an old couch from the Tamiettis they want Lip and Tami to have for their new home,” Ian replies, having offered Tami to go get it.</p><p>“Fantastic, anything else?” Mickey asks.</p><p>Ian’s phone chimes from inside his jacket pocket.</p><p>“Tami has a check-up this afternoon and Lip is at work. He asks if we can babysit Freddie,” Ian says, reading through the text.</p><p>“Do you know what I wanna do on the days I don’t have to work?” Mickey asks loudly. “I wanna sleep in, drink a couple cold ones, eat steak, watch some shit TV, and have your fucking dick shoved up my ass in between or at the same time, fucking don’t mind any which way, as long as I get banged from left to right!”</p><p>“Lang-”</p><p>“Fucking dick shoved up my ass,” Franny repeats, still contently playing with her plush bears.</p><p>“If you don’t watch it, Debbie will clobber you and shove something else up your… once she’s out,” Ian hisses.</p><p>“At least something gets stuffed up there,” Mickey mutters annoyed.</p><p>“You can’t possibly complain about how much we’re doing it,” Ian replies incredulously. They had sex literally the last time they saw each other before he headed to work.</p><p>“You mean all the times we have to do it in our bedroom, because you’re family can’t handle the occasional buttfuck in the kitchen?” Mickey complains loudly.</p><p>Ian glances back to Franny, already expecting her to latch onto the new vocabulary. But apparently buttfuck isn’t as interesting to her.</p><p>“You know what I think? This has nothing to with our <em>activities</em> or that you have to drive and watch the kids on your day off. I think you’re getting soft and you’ve noticed. Tough, scary Mickey isn’t so tough and scary anymore. Accept it, you’ve turned into a Gallagher.”</p><p>“You better take that back,” Mickey demands resentfully, hitting Ian blindly while driving.</p><p>“Isn’t that right, Franny? Uncle Mickey just loves you so much, he can’t wait to go to your dance recital next weekend,” Ian says, playing with her feet.</p><p>“Really? Uncle Mickey is coming?” Franny asks softly.</p><p>“It happens to be his day off. What do you say, Mickey? We could stay in, spend the day doing all the things you want, or we could watch a bunch of kindergarten kids tapping around in a dusty old gym for two hours.”</p><p>“You’re gonna pay for this,” Mickey presses out between teeth, angrily coming to a stop at the red light.</p><p>“Oh yeah? What are you-” Ian stops when he sees a familiar man walk down the street. He recognizes him immediately, remembering clear as day what he looked like passed out on the kitchen floor. “It’s him.”</p><p>“Who?” Mickey asks quizzically, following Ian’s eyes.</p><p>“The woman’s husband, the one that committed suicide,” Ian explains, noticing that they were actually right out front the apartment complex off which she had jumped.</p><p>“The one in the Blackhawks jersey?” Mickey asks. Ian nods, balling his fists together. “Mourning period’s over I see. Looks like he’s got another Latina swimmer on his arm.”</p><p>She looks young, barely legal and it makes Ian’s skin crawl. Another passerby bumps into her accidentally, having her turn to the street.</p><p>“I can’t believe this,” Ian exhales. She’s got a black eye. Mickey notices as well and shakes his head in disbelief. “He’s doing the same thing again!”</p><p>“Men like that don’t change,” Mickey says.</p><p>“How is he getting away with this? He killed his last wife!” Ian shouts furious.</p><p>“Calm down,” Mickey responds softly, throwing a glance to Franny. Ian breathes and tries to relax back into his seat when Mickey drives on.</p><p>“He gets to live on just like that? Repeat the whole shit again. How is…” He trails off frustrated.</p><p>“I don’t like it either, Ian. Just, don’t let it get to you,” Mickey replies. Ian shakes his head, frustration and anger boiling under his skin. Mickey watches him concerned, knows Ian’s deep inside his head right now. “Don’t you have that cop friend who could check him out?”</p><p>“Tony? Haven’t spoken to him in years,” Ian states.</p><p>“Still a cop?”</p><p>“Think so.”</p><p>“Well then, can’t hurt to pay him a visit,” Mickey proposes.</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“You’re tired, you just got off a night shift, don’t think too much about it now. We can worry about this later. Let’s take it step by step,” Mickey says, getting Ian’s head back out of the fog.</p><p>“Okay,” Ian agrees and doesn’t fail to notice how Mickey just coaxed him away from a downward spiral.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>They drop Franny off at dance practice, get the van and pick up the couch from the Tamiettis, and then head home to take Freddie off Tami’s hands. Mickey keeps Ian’s mind off thinking about the guy during their busy day, keeps his thoughts occupied by reminiscing about their teenage years, by telling stupid jokes, and by shamelessly flirting with him. Ian knows what Mickey’s doing, but it works and he’s thankful for it.</p><p>“Thank you for watching Freddie,” Tami says, handing him over to Ian. “And thanks for picking up the couch.”</p><p>“No problem,” Ian replies, rocking Freddie on his hip. “You’re all packed for the move on Sunday?”</p><p>“Not too much to pack when you’re living in a trailer,” she retorts, then looks at him apologetically. “You took time off work to help us move, right? Sorry to ruin your day off.”</p><p>Mickey snorts behind him on the sofa.</p><p>“It’s no problem at all,” Ian reassures her, ignoring Mickey.</p><p>“Okay, Mommy needs to go, sweetie,” she says, kissing Freddie good-bye. “Try to keep him away from Franny’s finger paints. It’s a pain to clean him up after.”</p><p>“Got it,” he replies and watches her leave.</p><p>He sits down next to Mickey, cradling Freddie to his chest, the latter fighting to keep his eyelids to stay open. Ian feels the same.</p><p>“Put the baby down, before you pass out and drop him,” Mickey says, eyes on the TV.</p><p>“It’s fine, he likes to fall asleep in somebody’s arms,” Ian yawns.</p><p>“Don’t think the little prince cares that much what he drools on,” Mickey snorts, eyeing Ian’s shirt.</p><p>“Ah, shit.” Ian pulls him off, holding him in the air. He gives in and puts him down between them. Freddie immediately startles out of the sleepy fog he was in, his face contorting, ready to cry. Ian looks at Mickey vindicated and is about to pull him back against his chest when Mickey takes him out of his hands.</p><p>“Aren’t you a little asshole, just like your old man,” Mickey tells him, lying him down against his shoulder. Ian stares at him, thinking back about this morning where he accused Mickey of having become soft. He raises an eyebrow. “Shut up.”</p><p>“Didn’t say anything, Gallagher,” Ian replies.</p><p>“I’m only doing this because your ass is about to give out. Lie down, get some sleep,” Mickey commands.</p><p>“Okay,” Ian agrees, too tired to argue. He takes the pillow, bunches it up on the other end of the sofa, and lies down, his feet planted to the floor. “Wake me when Freddie’s up again.”</p><p>“Agrees to babysit the stupid kid and who ends up taking care of him?” Ian hears Mickey grumble.</p><p>“Love you,” Ian replies sleepily just to be a little shit.</p><p>“Fuck you, too.”</p><p>He wakes up to the front door opening and Carl walking in. Mickey is still sitting on the other end of the sofa, but with a plate in hand, eating.</p><p>“What’s up, bitches?” Carl asks, heading to the kitchen.</p><p>“How long did I sleep?” Ian rubs at his face.</p><p>“About three hours,” Mickey answers, chewing on what looks to be steak.</p><p>He hadn’t planned to sleep this long, just wanted get some shut-eye for half an hour.</p><p>“Freddie?” He asks.</p><p>Mickey nods behind Ian where Freddie is currently playing with his blocks.</p><p>Carl walks back into the living room, putting on what has to be one of the shirts from the dirty laundry pile. He ruffles around under the stairs, throwing things left and right.</p><p>“What are you looking for?” Ian asks.</p><p>“My old academy bag,” Carl answers frustrated when he doesn’t find it.</p><p>“You mean the stuff you borrowed and never returned?”</p><p>“Exactly. Need my nonchucks. Yes!” He cheers when he finds what he is looking for.</p><p>“What do you need- you know what, I don’t wanna know,” Ian decides he’s better off not knowing.</p><p>“You can handle those or need me to show you?” Mickey asks casually.</p><p>“Got it,” Carl waves him off. “Laters!” He shouts and is out the door.</p><p>“Why does he have nonchucks in his police academy bag? Did he train with the Ninja Turtles?” Mickey looks at Ian questioningly.</p><p>“Why do you think he didn’t make it?” Ian says. “Got any food left for me?”</p><p>“In the kitchen.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>He stands up and walks into the kitchen to find a steak sitting in the pan, still warm, mashed potato and coleslaw next to it on the counter. He walks right past and makes a new pot of coffee. Waiting for the coffee to brew he makes himself a plate.</p><p>“Coffee or beer?” He shouts.</p><p>“Beer!”</p><p>Ian complies and walks into the living room, handing him the bottle and placing his plate on the coffee table. He moves back into the kitchen to get his coffee when he sees Freddie play around with a bundle of cash.</p><p>“Where did Freddie get this money?” Ian asks, kneeling down behind him.</p><p>“Money?” Mickey asks quizzically, turning around.</p><p>“Yeah, looks like a stash of hundreds,” he says bewildered.</p><p>Mickey looks at the bundle of cash and the bag next to Freddie.</p><p>“Shit! That’s not money! Move, get him away!” He jumps over the back of the couch and leaps at them. Although he doesn’t know what’s going on, Ian’s reflexes kick in and he pulls Freddie away, throwing himself backwards. A loud bang echoes through the room and, suddenly, they are engulfed in a mushroom of blue smoke.</p><p>“What the fuck?” He coughs, shielding Freddie.</p><p>Mickey waves the smoke off, having been hit with the worst of it, and then holds up the bundle of cash.</p><p>“It’s a frigging dye pack,” he says, trying to catch his breath after inhaling too much of the smoke.</p><p>Now that he looks closer, he sees the device on the other side of the bills. His eyes flicker to Carl’s bag lying right next to them and sees another such stash of bills. Freddie giggles in his arms, covered in the blue dye.</p><p>“He’s blue!” Ian shouts. He inspects Freddie front and back. The dye is mostly on his hands and arms, has a soft layer sprinkled over his face.</p><p>“I can see!” Mickey shouts back. Among the three of them Mickey looks like a fucking avatar. He had thrown himself on the dye pack like it was a grenade. His face, neck, and arms are covered in blue. Wrong day to wear a sleeveless shirt. If he wasn’t freaking out so much, he would have burst out laughing.</p><p>“Jesus, we need to get this off before Lip and Tami come home!” Ian panics.</p><p>“Fuck, bathroom now!” Mickey scrambles off the floor.</p><p>They run upstairs, crashing into the bathroom, Mickey roughly turning on the bath tub faucet. Ian gently but hurriedly removes Freddie’s clothes and then sits him down in the tub. The water is lukewarm and Freddie, who thankfully has always liked bath time, happily splashes it around.</p><p>“It’s not getting off!” Ian states hysterically.</p><p>“Try the damn soap!” Mickey shoots back incredulously.</p><p>Ian lathers Freddie’s hands up, rubbing the soap into his skin as gently as the situation allows.</p><p>“It’s not coming off!” Ian groans frustrated.</p><p>“It’s fucking police dye, it’s not supposed to come off!” Mickey shoots back.</p><p>“Then what the fuck do we do, Mickey?!”</p><p>“How would I know?!”</p><p>“This is clearly a Milkovich type of situation!”</p><p>“So now I’m a Milkovich again!”</p><p>Before Ian can think of something to shout back, they hear the kitchen door open downstairs.</p><p>“Guys, I’m back,” they hear Tami say.</p><p>“Shit! Fuck! Fucking fuck!” Mickey hisses.</p><p>“Tami will kill us, if she finds out a dye pack has exploded in front of Freddie,” Ian states. “We gotta buy time until we can get this off. Go distract her.”</p><p>“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I look like I’ve just returned from a job interview with the Blue Man Group! You go! Most of the dye is in your hair, if you lose the shirt, it’s not that obvious.”</p><p>He takes over for Ian, steadying Freddie in the tub. Ian strips off his flannel, happily noting almost no color got on his undershirt, and then rushes out, running into Tami. He shuts the bathroom door behind him with a bang and leans against it, trying to act normal.</p><p>“Hey Tami, you’re back,” he greets.</p><p>“Yeah, just returned. Waited an hour and half in the waiting room,” she says, tired. She notices Ian’s hair and the blue freckles sprinkled on his face. “Why is your hair blue?”</p><p>“I… I thought I would try a new color…” Ian replies. “What do you think?”</p><p>“I think why would you choose blue? And I think it’s not very well done. Why didn’t you come to me, if you wanted to dye your hair?”</p><p>“Spur of the moment purchase,” he answers, shrugging.</p><p>“Stick with your natural color,” Tami says.</p><p>“You’re right, blue… what was I thinking?” He laughs.</p><p>“Where’s Freddie?” She asks.</p><p>“Freddie? Freddie is…” Ian stammers. “Taking a bath. Was just in there to check up on him.”</p><p>“You left him alone in the bathtub?” Tami asks.</p><p>“No, no, no, that would be crazy,” Ian laughs out. “Mickey is with him.”</p><p>“Okay… Let me help, I can take over,” she says, moving toward the bathroom door.</p><p>“You can’t!” Ian blocks her path hurriedly.</p><p>“Why?” She asks quizzically.</p><p>“Because… Mickey is also taking a bath…” Ian cringes innerly in disbelief. Apparently he can’t lie very well under pressure.</p><p>“Mickey is taking a bath with my son?” She asks stupefied.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, it’s… what we’ve always done. Gallaghers shower together. Saves water, you know…Carl and I shared a shower just yesterday,” Ian lies.</p><p>“That’s disturbing,” she replies.</p><p>“Yeah, wanted to get a second opinion on that for a while now,” Ian says, chuckling nervously.</p><p>“I’m not comfortable with Mickey, or any one of you, bathing with Freddie,” Tami states.</p><p>“Right, won’t happen again,” Ian assures her. “How about you head over and take a nap? You must be tired with a newborn and everything. We’ll happily keep watching him for a while.”</p><p>“That’s alright, I need to feed him soon anyway,” she says.</p><p>“When was the last time you had time to yourself, Tami? Just you, no Freddie, no <em>Lip</em>?”</p><p>Although reluctant Tami visibly likes the idea. “That does sound heavenly. Just for a bit?”</p><p>“Yeah, you go and enjoy some quiet,” Ian replies, pushing her gently down the stairs.</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, yes, we’ve got things covered here,” Ian responds and walks her out the kitchen door.<br/><br/>He runs back upstairs, but before he can check up on Mickey and Freddie, he hears someone entering through the front door downstairs. He lets go of the door knob, turning around to see Carl jump up the stairs.</p><p>“Why are you back here?” Ian asks.</p><p>“Why are you blue?” Carl shoots back, pointing at his hair. He moves into his room, looking into his drawers.</p><p>“I will talk to you about this later,” he says, needing to get things under control first before he can rip into Carl for leaving his stuff unsupervised.</p><p>Carl emerges back into the hallway with knuckle rings in his hands.</p><p>“Decided to bring these as well,” Carl explains and heads downstairs again.</p><p>“Carl!” Ian calls after him. “If Tami asks, we shower together,” he says and goes back into the bathroom.</p><p>It’s a frigging foam party in there, Ian comes to find. Mickey has discarded his shirt and is roughly rubbing at his skin with a washcloth.</p><p>“You are the worst liar. I’ve heard everything,” Mickey says, throwing the wash cloth away frustrated.</p><p>“No luck I see,” Ian comments, looking at Freddie’s blue hands splashing around the shallow water.</p><p>“Can’t get the dye off with just water and soap. Any other ideas?”</p><p>“Let’s go to V, maybe she knows what to do,” Ian suggests.</p><p>“Alright. Out you go, Baby Smurf.” Mickey lifts Freddie out and Ian wraps him in a towel. “You head down, I’ll quickly get changed.”</p><p>Ian almost made it to the bottom of the stairs when somebody else enters the house.</p><p>“You gotta be fucking kidding me! Why does this house have more traffic than the subway?” Mickey whispers exasperated from the top of the stairs.</p><p>“Ian? Mickey?” Lip shouts from the kitchen.</p><p>“Do something!” Ian whispers to Mickey, lying on the stairs, hiding against the wall, and praying Freddie stays quiet.</p><p>Mickey makes these aggravated hand motions which Ian deciphers as <em>What the fuck do you want me to do?</em></p><p>“Guys?” Lip asks.</p><p>Mickey grinds his teeth, shaking his head in defeat. He storms down the stairs and sees Lip look up the kitchen stairs, his back turned to the living room. He quickly grabs the blanket from the sofa and tosses it over the blast area.</p><p>“There you are- What the fuck happened to you?”</p><p>“I thought you’d head straight to your AA after work,” Mickey deflects straight off.</p><p>Ian moves closer to the banister, carefully glimpsing into the kitchen.</p><p>“I’m about to, just wanted to quickly grab something to eat and check on Freddie,” Lip says, eyeing him as if he were an alien.</p><p>“He’s out for a walk with Carl,” Mickey lies smoothly. He grabs a pop tart from the cupboard and an apple from the counter, tosses them into a paper bag, and shoves it in Lip’s hands. “There, dinner. Don’t be late for your meeting.”</p><p>“Dude, you look like you’ve been dipped into Kool-Aid, do you honestly believe I would just leave without getting some kind of explanation?” Lip huffs out in a mix of bewilderment and amusement.</p><p>“Fine, you wanna know what’s going on?” Mickey says, blue arms outstretched. Lip looks at him expectantly. “Sex paint. Ian and I are currently in the middle of somethin’, getting <em>real</em> kinky upstairs,” he explains completely unashamed.</p><p>Ian bangs his head silently against the stairs, cursing Mickey out in his head.</p><p>“Oh, no, Mickey. Why…” Lip complains appalled. “What is wrong with you guys?”</p><p>“Present from Carl. Ian has a thing for Aladdin’s Genie, wants to rub the lamp and see what comes-”</p><p>“No! Stop! I don’t wanna hear this!” Lip cries out horrified, turning to the back door. “I’m leaving!”</p><p>“Wanna hear his three wishes?” Mickey shouts after him.</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, your tongue is blue,” Lip points out, shuddering at the thought what Mickey and his brother were doing.</p><p>“Sex paint? Really, Mickey?” Ian asks incredulously when Lip has left.</p><p>“You wanted me to handle it. I handled it! Much better than you by the way,” Mickey points out.</p><p>“You call that better? Lip thinks we’re into some kinda perverted folk tale role-playing shit!”</p><p>“Not many ways I can explain being covered in blue dye!”</p><p>“Let’s just head to V’s before we run into anyone else,” Ian relents.</p><p>The front door opens, <em>again</em>, and Ian officially hates this house. He tumbles up the stairs, Freddie giggling softly in his arms, while Mickey rushes to the entrance, stalling who ever just came in from rounding the corner.</p><p>“What the fuck are you doing here again, Carl?” Mickey asks aggravated.</p><p>“What the- Why are you blue?” Carl wants to know, eyes bugging out by the sight in front of him.</p><p>“Seriously getting sick of this question. Why are you back? Don’t you have to be somewhere?”</p><p>“Wanted to get the bat, too,” Carl answers.</p><p>Mickey takes the bat from the hook and shoves it against Carl’s chest. “Here, go!” He says, pushing him to the door. Mickey pulls him back for one moment, holding out a finger. “If Lip asks, you got us sex paint.”</p><p>“What?” Carl asks confused, but Mickey just shoves him out the door.</p><p>“The next person that walks into this house gets murdered,” Mickey states, walking to the windows. “Coast is clear, Carl’s gone. Let’s move.”</p><p>Ian walks down the stairs and hands Mickey a shirt he quickly grabbed for him. They make it to V’s, who, not surprisingly, freaks out upon seeing them. After explaining the situation and swearing her to secrecy, she sits Freddie down and starts rubbing the dye off with a mix of lemon juice and baking soda. It washes off the vibrant blue, but it still leaves the skin somewhat discolored. She proposes olive oil, but doesn’t have any at home, so they make their way back to the Gallagher house together.</p><p>When they step in they are greeted by the sight of Lip, Tami, and Carl standing in the living room, having discovered what’s under the blanket.</p><p>“So I just ran into Carl,” Lip begins.</p><p>“Oh my God, Freddie!” Tami cries out upon seeing V enter behind them with Freddie in her arms.</p><p>“Gig’s up,” Mickey murmurs. Ian sighs and nods next to him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The air is a bit chilly tonight, Ian hunkers down on the front porch steps, wishing he’d grabbed a jacket on his way out. He lights a cigarette and watches the quiet neighborhood, trying to clear his head. Ian feels exhausted. Not just by the very vexing day and the tongue lashing he received from Tami, it’s a built up tiredness he’s reluctantly had to accept to be part of his life for the time being. The insomnia is gnawing on him, he can’t get a full night’s sleep most nights and while he is still getting enough sleep to function at day, it’s mentally taxing.</p><p>Ian exhales the smoke, massaging his temple. He hears the front door open and feels a jacket being draped over his shoulder. He looks up to see Mickey sitting down next to him, wearing his own jacket over his shirt and boxers.</p><p>“Can’t sleep again?” Mickey asks, accepting the cigarette Ian passes him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ian replies. “Sorry to wake you.”</p><p>“That’s alright,” Mickey responds, waving him off. “Weird day, huh?”</p><p>Ian huffs, nodding his agreement. “Looks like we’re having a lot of weird days lately though. Last week we got shot at, today we had a dye pack explode in front of a toddler, I’m scared to think what’s happening tomorrow.”</p><p>“We could start a methlab, mix things up a little,” Mickey suggests.</p><p>“How about a quiet night? Let’s get home early and watch a movie on the couch," Ian proposes.</p><p>“Couple cold ones, sounds good,” Mickey hums in agreement. He finishes the smoke and flicks the cigarette away, letting the silence hang between them for a moment. “Could get pizza from Antonio’s.”</p><p>Ian shakes his head annoyed, flipping him off when Mickey chuckles. He tiredly presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, wishing he could just pass out already.</p><p>“That asshole is on your mind, isn’t he?” Mickey asks, watching him concerned.</p><p>Ian nods warily. Seeing him today with that girl brought out a lot of anger and guilt.</p><p>“I can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen to that girl if she stays with him. I don’t want her to end up like…” He trails off.</p><p>“We could talk to her,” Mickey proposes weakly.</p><p>“If she’s here illegally as well, he will hold that against her and keep her under his thumb,” Ian explains what they both already know.</p><p>“You know, it’s okay for you to care, but ultimately this isn’t your problem. You are not responsible for what happens to her. Some things are just out of our control,” Mickey says.</p><p>“I planned to confront him. After the suicide. Even went all the way to his apartment complex one night when I couldn’t sleep. Stood there outside with the bat,” Ian confesses to Mickey’s surprise. “I stood out there for an hour. You know what I kept thinking about?”</p><p>“I hope how you can safely move the body,” Mickey replies, clearly worried.</p><p>“I kept thinking about you,” Ian says, looking into Mickey’s eyes. He pulls the jacket tighter, letting his gaze wander up the sky, staring at the moon. “I promised myself when I married you that I would make you my first priority. I know I’ve let you down a lot in the past. For all the crap I give you about your emotional intelligence, we both know that I’m the one with the deep rooted issues. It’s not just being bipolar, our relationship… leaping in with both feet, giving you everything of me, especially the bad parts and the parts I don’t even know yet but that I most certainly will give you someday, has had me terrified. Still has me terrified. I don’t want to screw this up. So I told myself no matter what decisions I have to make, I needed to think about you first. Be it about my mental health, forcing myself to be okay to be dependent on you a little more, because I know in the long run this is the only way we can make it work, or be it about a man I would have liked to beat to an inch of his life, thinking about the consequences that would have me back in prison, leaving you behind again. We’ve been apart for years, because I couldn’t fully commit to you. Turning back that night and climbing back into bed with you was me committing.”</p><p>“You know, you don’t have to think about this stuff so much,” Mickey replies, a little overwhelmed by Ian’s words. “I love you no matter what.”</p><p>“I know,” Ian says. And it’s exactly why he has to make the effort. “’M just tired,” he states, feeling the exhaustion to his bone.</p><p>“C’mere,” Mickey responds, leaning sideways against the railing, pulling Ian into his arms between his legs. He moves Ian’s jacket to the front, then settles back with Ian lying against his chest and places an affectionate kiss to the top of his head. “Let’s stay here until you’re ready to sleep.”</p><p>It’s warm and comfortable in Mickey’s arms and while he doesn’t fall asleep closing his eyes, he already feels infinitely better.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The mall on a Saturday is a nightmare. People form any age group walking left and right, loudly shouting over each other, bumping into somebody every ten seconds. Babies screaming and kids running around, their parents trying to bribe them to behave. Not to mention these damn annoying scooter things everyone drives now, because walking is apparently a thing of the past. Those you have to squeeze next to in the elevators or jump out of the way when you exit a store. No wonder Mickey hates working here. Ian is standing at the railing in front of Old Army, trying to stay out of sight of the guy wearing a whale sweater and Birkenstocks, who is currently on his mission to Save the Planet one signature at a time.</p><p>Finally, Mickey walks out in his dress shorts and lilac polo, jacket under the arm. A sight at which Ian still has trouble not to laugh.</p><p>“Yo, what are you doing here?” Mickey greets smiling.</p><p>“Thought I would pick your ass up for a change,” Ian replies, placing his hands on Mickey’s hips when the latter steps up to him.</p><p>Mickey cups his cheek and leans in to kiss him eagerly. Ian brushes a strand of hair back out of Mickey’s face, holding him in place, and starts chuckling.</p><p>“Just how many people have commented on you being blue today?”</p><p>The color has faded after Mickey had rubbed his skin raw with all kinds of V’s recommended remedies, but the skin is still visibly discolored. Mickey must have been quiet the sight at work today.</p><p>“Don’t even. I was ready to gut a group of prepubescent skinny jeans by lunch time,” Mickey answers annoyed, turning to walk out the mall.</p><p>“Well, in their defense you do look ridiculous,” Ian says.</p><p>“Don’t you bust my balls, too,” Mickey replies disgruntled.</p><p>“C’mere,” Ian says, throwing his arm over Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Let’s go home, you promised me a quiet movie night.”</p><p>“Die Hard all night,” Mickey agrees. “Just need to cash in my paycheck. Can you believe I gotta pay taxes now? They fucking took half my salary! How the fuck does anybody live like this? Never had that problem at the Rub’n’Tug,” Mickey states ruefully.</p><p>“Never had to tax my crotch tips either,” Ian muses in agreement.</p><p>“And you never will,” Mickey warns.</p><p>“If you hate the job, why don’t you look for something else?”</p><p>“What the hell am I supposed to do? Never did anything else but security that was actually legal. Besides, I do like working security. I kick ass busting those Taylor Swift loving hormone disasters. Just hate the crowd and this,” Mickey replies, pulling at his polo shirt.</p><p>“The color does clash with your current skin tone,” Ian points out, pushing the bank door open.</p><p>The security guard eyes Mickey curiously, wondering what he’s seeing.</p><p>“Whatcha looking at, Arthritis?” Mickey barks at him, passing by.</p><p>They get in line between a mother and her child and an old lady who immediately pulls her purse closer to her body when she sees them. Mickey just rolls his eyes.</p><p>“By the way, Iggy and Colin invited us to poker tomorrow,” Mickey relays.</p><p>“We’re not going, right? We are busy helping Lip move. Besides last time we played poker with them the police busted in arresting your cousin,” Ian replies, ignoring the old lady who gives them the stink eye.</p><p>“We’ll be done by the time poker night begins and the charges didn’t stick, so Ricky will make it…” Mickey responds distractedly.</p><p>“I thought he threatened to set a judge and his entire family on fire-”</p><p>“Oh hell,” Mickey curses annoyed, his attention fixed to something over Ian’s shoulder. “Be cool, a robbery is about to go down,” Mickey states.</p><p>“What?” Ian asks confused.</p><p>“THIS IS A ROBBERY! EVERYBODY DOWN!”</p><p>Ian turns around to see two armed men with empty duffel bags screaming at them and the other people in the bank.</p><p>“You got to be kidding me…” Ian mutters, dropping to the floor next to Mickey.</p><p>The security guard actually fumbles with and drops his gun. The guy with the blond hair and spider web tattoo on his neck clogs him with his weapon, kicking him and taking his gun when he falls to the floor.</p><p>“Anyone tries to be a hero will eat a bullet!” Spider Guy shouts, waving his gun around.</p><p>“And that moron calls himself security,” Mickey scoffs quietly next to Ian.</p><p>Spider Guy keeps an eye on everyone while his partner with the eyebrow piercings, Hispanic by the looks of it, is shouting at the lady teller to fill the duffel bags with money.</p><p>“Are we actually in a bank robbery right now?” Ian is completely fed up with his bad luck lately. “This is a joke.”</p><p>“No, you wanna know what the joke is?” Mickey whispers back. “A Milkovich and a Gallagher enter a bank. A bank robbery goes down and it isn’t <em>us</em> doing the fucking robbing!”</p><p>“Hey you two! Shut up!” Spider Guy shouts, aiming his gun at them.</p><p>Ian holds his hands up, apologizing. The mother next to them cries softly, covering her daughter. The big guy a row behind them whimpers into his backpack, sweating profusely. And the old lady from before is muttering racist slurs under her breath. He looks to Mickey whose attention is directed at the young teller in front of them. He’s got his arms held up in surrender, watching the bank robbers. His eyes keep flickering down to his work station and he is nervously licking his lips.</p><p>“Don’t do it,” Mickey whispers under his breath.</p><p>The teller quickly reaches down and presses, what Ian is certain is, the silent alarm. Spider Guy catches him doing it and shouts at him, aiming his gun in their direction.</p><p>“He did it,” Mickey groans annoyed.</p><p>Spider Guy runs toward the teller and starts shooting. The bank erupts in screams, people scrambling away from the gun man.</p><p>“Oh hell… I take this one, you handle metal face!” Mickey says.</p><p>“What?! No, fuck, no, Mickey!” Ian hisses, trying to reach for him, but Mickey has already scrambled off the floor and is now tackling Spider Guy to the ground.</p><p>“Fuck!” Ian curses emphatically and gets up fast, running over to the other bank robber before he can shoot Mickey.</p><p>He manages to slam into him, tipping them both to the ground. The gun is still in the robber’s hand though and so Ian wrestles him, trying to make him let go. He catches an elbow to his face, losing his grip on the guy, but before he can aim the gun at him, he punches it out of his hand, the gun scattering a few feet away. The robber tackles him and lands on top of Ian, punching him in his face. Ian fights back as best as he can in the position, trying to see what’s happening over on Mickey’s side at the same time.</p><p>“Ian!” Mickey calls out to him, sees him coming from the side.</p><p>He blocks a punch and buckles the robber off. With one mighty push he shoves the guy to the side where Mickey awaits and punches him hard to the ground. He pins him to the floor, kneeling on his back. The robber grunts in pain, trying to get a look at his assailant over his shoulder.</p><p>“What the fuck are you?” He demands incredulously, most probably caught off guard by the sight of an aggravated, blue Mickey holding him down.</p><p>“You wanna know what I am? I’m fucking security, bitch!” Mickey replies, taking a hold of his head and bashing it against the floor, knocking him unconscious.</p><p>Ian looks over to the other robber and finds him also passed out against the counter on the ground.</p><p>“Yo, Useless Guy, throw over some handcuffs,” Mickey demands from the security guard, who shakily complies.</p><p>Ian gets up from the floor, heading over to Mickey.</p><p>“You okay?” Mickey asks, looking him over.<br/><br/>“Yeah, you?” Ian checks Mickey for injuries, but is relieved to find he’s okay.</p><p>Suddenly, everyone around them clap, expressing their gratitude, slowly getting up from the floor when they’ve determined it’s safe to do so. Well, everyone except for the old lady who seems to be even exasperated by the fact Mickey and he stopped the robbery. Ian looks around to see if anyone is hurt and notices the teller, who had triggered the alarm, lying on the ground bleeding. He runs over and drops down next to him, checking his wound.</p><p>“Hey Marvin,” Ian says soothingly, having read his name tag. “I’m gonna have a look at your injury, okay?”</p><p>“I got shot… I can’t believe I got shot on my first week…” Marvin whimpers pathetically.</p><p>As far as Ian can see the bullet hit his shoulder and went right through. It’s not life threatening. He grabs Marvin’s sweater from his chair and presses it to his wound, staunching the bleeding.</p><p>“Am I going to die?” Marvin cries, trying to look at his gun shot wound and almost passes out upon seeing the blood.</p><p>“You’re gonna be fine,” Ian reassures with a sigh.</p><p>He hears sirens and shortly after sees the police arrive. The officers are surprised to find the bank robbers secured on the floor, Mickey having cuffed them and currently sitting on their backs. The paramedics take Marvin off Ian’s hands and load him onto the ambulance.</p><p>Ian leans against the counter next to Mickey, waiting for the police to take their statements.</p><p>“I wanted a quiet night,” Ian states, folding his arms.</p><p>“Not my fault we end up involved in a fuckin’ bank robbery,” Mickey replies, shaking his hand, getting feeling back after punching those robbers.</p><p>“No, you just decided to jump the armed robbers,” Ian says.</p><p>“If I hadn’t, that newbie would be dead now,” Mickey retorts.</p><p>Ian knows this which is why he isn’t actually mad at Mickey. Annoyed, yes, but not mad. While Mickey can be reckless at times, he’s not suicidal. If Mickey decided they needed to step in, he wouldn’t have done so if he thought they couldn’t handle the situation. That being said, he’s still glad nothing went sideways.</p><p>“How do we keep getting into these situations?” Ian wonders out loud.</p><p>“The hell I know,” Mickey replies shrugging, but then eyes him for a moment. “We do make a good team though, Firecrotch.”</p><p>Indeed, there’s nobody Ian trusts more to have his back than Mickey. Always has.</p><p>“Gentlemen, we’ve heard you’ve been quiet the heroes today,” a black police officer says, approaching them, another colleague at his side.</p><p>Ian and Mickey run through the events together when asked to give their statements. They briefly have to explain why Mickey’s skin looks the way it does when the police officers are too distracted by the sight not to ask. They feed them a lie involving a painting mishap during renovation, figuring it was better they left out it was a dye pack that caused Mickey to turn blue.</p><p>“I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation, but could you clarify why the lady over there thinks you were involved in the robbery?” He asks, nodding toward the old lady at the other side of the bank. By the look on his face, he had to suffer through her pleasant personality as well. “She says that she overheard you talking about the bank robbery before the robbers actually revealed themselves.”</p><p>Now that he mentions it, Ian remembers Mickey warning him about the robbery.</p><p>“That demented dried up frump better shut her pie hole,” Mickey curses, but then goes on to explain. “I recognized the guys; they were sitting in the car across the street when we entered the bank. They decided to come in right after the manager moved today’s excess cash deposit out of the tellers’ machines. Were eyeing him and the security cameras the entire time. And, yeah, you might wanna check out the teller lady over there, pretty sure she raised her arms before they even pulled their guns. Looks like an insider job, lady probably told them when the cash would be out for grabs.”</p><p>The police officers seem impressed by Mickey, not knowing that the reason he has an eye for these things is because he’s an expert in stealing. They turn around to the teller in question who is currently having her statement taken by another officer.</p><p>“We’ll do a background check, thanks,” the police officer says. “You can leave now, we’ve got everything we need. You’ve done well today, probably saved some of these folk’s lives. You can be proud of yourselves. We at least thank you for your service today.”</p><p>“Pigs being proud of us, my skin crawls,” Mickey states appalled after they’ve been left alone.</p><p>“That’s something I would have never been able to predict,” Ian muses, nodding his head in agreement.</p><p>He thinks back to the time Mickey first came by the Kash and Grab looking for trouble. The subsequent terror he’s been since, bullying and stealing from the store. How he got involved with the neighborhood thug, shooting guns in abandoned buildings, robbing rich folk’s homes, blackmailing adulterers and cleric homophobes, fooling the gullible with moving truck scams, stealing, stealing, and stealing some more, beating just about anyone who looked at them funnily, running from trouble, running from the police. All these years they’ve had each other’s backs, side by side. That kind of implicit trust had always been there, since day one. Just a genuine and deep-rooted bond that has never disappeared even in the years they’ve been apart. Now, years later, it’s still the same as it was a decade ago. And despite that they’ve just faced a couple of armed robbers together, could have gotten into serious trouble, Ian wouldn’t have it any other way. Mickey’s been his partner ever since he met him. There’s nobody else he’d rather have by his side, even if that means dodging a hail of bullets and punching the occasional bank robbers in the face.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>“Will you finally tell me what we’re doing here?” Ian asks Mickey when they’ve come to a stop in a dark and dingy backstreet he doesn’t recognize.</p><p>He’s tired and just wants to crash, trying to get some sleep. The insomnia had kept him up the past week to the point where he was sure tonight he could finally pass out and get a few good hours rest. He was getting ready for bed when Mickey dragged him off, said they needed to take care of something without offering any details.</p><p>“Come on,” Mickey says, opening the door and stepping out of the car.</p><p>Ian sighs tiredly, glancing around the more or less abandoned block, wondering why Mickey has brought him here. He joins Mickey on the sidewalk, burrowing his hands into his jacket pockets.</p><p>“See that bar over there?” Mickey asks, nodding his head toward the seedy pub across the street, cornering a narrow back alley. “Our special friend goes there every night. Drinks away his paycheck, snorts some Blow, and then goes home to beat up his woman.”</p><p>“You mean…” Ian whips his head to the bar, checking the place out. He can’t see inside, but he assumes Mickey is talking about the bastard who drove his wife to commit suicide.</p><p>“Asshole’s gettin’ high in there right now,” Mickey confirms.</p><p>“Mickey,” Ian says warily, turning to him. “Why are we here?”</p><p>“We are about to do some rectifyin’. Teach the guy a lesson, he won’t ever touch another woman again,” Mickey answers, opening the car trunk to reveal the family baseball bat.</p><p>Ian’s eyes widen upon the sight, completely caught off guard by what Mickey just said.</p><p>“You want to kill him?” He hisses quietly, glancing around to see if anyone’s around who could overhear them and noting relieved that they’re alone.</p><p>“No, we’ll just beat the shit out of him like he does with his girls. Let him get a taste of what it means to get beaten up by people his own size. And if in the process the fucker can’t hold a spoon no longer, that’ll just be a lucky outcome,” Mickey explains simply, grabbing the bat.</p><p>“We can’t do that,” Ian replies emphatically. He wants to so badly and being given the opportunity like this is chipping at his resolution, but they can’t go through with this.</p><p>“No, what we can’t do is ignoring you not sleeping. You can’t sleep and we’re doing something about this now before you get worse. You’ve already got enough mental health problems to deal with, we don’t need insomnia to set you off into a psychotic breakdown,” Mickey responds, facing Ian earnestly.</p><p>“I’ll be fine. I’ll find a way to handle this. <em>We</em> can find another way to handle the insomnia, we don’t have to do this,” Ian insists. He doesn’t know how yet, but risking everything to give in to the urge to hurt that guy, he’s afraid he’ll lose what’s most important to him.</p><p>“You’re right, we don’t have to do this, but I’m telling you I have your back. This whole thing has been eating you up and there’s a way to fix it. So let’s fix it. Together,” Mickey says, stepping closer, looking Ian into his eyes.</p><p>“Why are you doing this now?” Ian asks, wondering about the timing.</p><p>Mickey sighs, looking unhappy. “Spoke with Tony, he checked the guy out, apparently he’s got a long track record of beating up women. Did time a few years here and there, but managed to stay out of prison ever since he started picking off girls at the border. Tony wants to help, but if they start an official investigation and find his new girl is undocumented, they’ll have no choice but to send her back.”</p><p>It doesn’t come as a surprise, Ian wasn’t very hopeful the police could do anything to help, but it still hurts to hear the woman is left without protection.</p><p>“I know you, Ian. If something happens to that girl, you will never forgive yourself. You’re just too sensitive for your own good,” Mickey states.</p><p>“What about parole, Mickey? We get caught we end up back in the joint,” Ian replies, meeting Mickey’s eyes conflicted.</p><p>“That’s what these are for,” he responds, pulling out two balaclavas from his jacket pocket, throwing one over to Ian.</p><p>“I am not risking it. I am not risking losing you, I told you,” Ian states adamant, shaking his head with conviction.</p><p>“Hey, look at me,” Mickey says, cupping Ian’s cheek with his free hand. “You won’t. I might not be able to guarantee we won’t ever get separated, but I can guarantee you we’ll always find our way back to each other. I’ve never given up on us. Doesn’t matter if it’s barbwire or a couple thousand miles keeping us apart, I’ve always come back to you. This isn’t something you should worry about, you should rather be afraid how attached I am to your freckled ass. Nothin’ will ever keep me from you, you understand?”</p><p>Ian sees the conviction in Mickey’s kind eyes, sees that reassuring small smile. Feels the trust between them, stronger than ever before. Knows that he can let himself fall and Mickey will be there to catch him.</p><p>“You need to do this and I’m here to do it with you,” Mickey says, holding out the baseball bat.</p><p>Across the street the guy they’ve been talking about steps outside the bar and staggers down the back alley. Ian watches him, his skin vibrating with nervous energy. He swallows, looking at the proffered bat.</p><p>“Let’s do it,” Ian says, taking the bat out of Mickey’s hand and they both start crossing the street, heading to the alley, pulling on their balaclavas.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave love!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 4 - Heart</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>Too many times in his life has Ian found himself here, sitting on the hard plastic seats in the police lobby. Mostly being dragged along by Fiona when she was yet again called to pick up Frank from the drunk tank. A few times coming to get Lip and Carl or having been asked to give statements about crimes they’ve witnessed in his neighborhood. That’s just part of life when you live on the South Side. So when he got the call to come down to the station, he can’t say he was surprised. But when he heard who he was supposed to pick up, he couldn’t quiet trust his ears.</p>
<p>“Ian,” Liam calls, walking next to a police officer who had come to get him from the detention area.</p>
<p>“Liam!” Ian wraps his arms around his little brother, hugging him tightly. When they separate he checks him up and down, making sure he is fine.</p>
<p>“Did you actually put a ten-year old in a cell with criminals?” Ian demands from the police officer exasperated.</p>
<p>“No, we made him wait in the interrogation room,” Officer Bishop replies unimpressed and then turns to Liam. “But I hope you got a good look passing by, because that’s where you will end up next time you get yourself arrested. You hear me?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Officer,” Liam answers politely.</p>
<p>“You finished your talk with the principal?” The officer asks Ian.</p>
<p>“Yes, no charges will be pressed. Can we go now?” Ian replies, pulling Liam closer. He wants to get out of there as quickly as possible.</p>
<p>“Make sure this doesn’t happen again,” he tells him and then leaves.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Ian,” Liam says.</p>
<p>Ian watches Liam fiddle with the hem of his shirt, dejectedly looking at his shoes. He throws an arm over his shoulder and pulls him along.</p>
<p>“Kept us waiting long enough. Lip and I got detained for the first time on one of Frank’s scams when we were eight and nine. Carl was seven when they caught him feeding rat poison to a police dog,” he says, ruffling Liam’s hair affectionately.</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Liam replies, gratefully leaning into his brother’s side.</p>
<p>“School said you broke into your teacher’s office and tried to steal the test answers when campus security caught you,” Ian relays not quiet sure what to make of that.</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to steal anything.”</p>
<p>“I’d be hard pressed to believe you needed to cheat in the first place, let alone that you wanted to steal from your teacher. So what happened?” Ian asks.</p>
<p>Liam glances to the side, where a brunette girl his age is currently being picked up from what seems to be her mother. Rather than concerned she seems annoyed and fed up with her daughter, barely looking at her and merely signing the needed papers for her release so that she herself can leave. The girl spots Liam and grins, winking at him as she is dragged off by her mother. Liam watches her leave and waves her good-bye quietly.</p>
<p>Now that makes more sense, Ian thinks. He huffs quietly to himself, hiding his smile before Liam can see.</p>
<p>“That’s Heather, it was her idea to break into the teacher’s lounge and steal Mrs. Cooper’s test answers. I tried to convince her not to do it. She always gets into trouble,” Liam explains as they walk out of the station.</p>
<p>“Is Heather the first girl you have a crush on?” Ian asks amused next to him.</p>
<p>“I don’t have a crush on her,” Liam denies, elbowing Ian annoyed.</p>
<p>“Yeah? If she always gets into trouble, how come you went along tonight?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I thought I could change her mind I guess,” Liam answers shrugging.</p>
<p>“She doesn’t seem the type you’d usually hang out with. You two get along?” Ian inquires curiously, lighting a cigarette.</p>
<p>“She started talking to me during class and lunch breaks, after we’ve been partnered on a science project recently. I like hanging out with her, but she always causes trouble, it’s a miracle she hasn’t been expelled yet,” Liam says.</p>
<p>“Why do you think you like spending time with her then?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. She is fun, I guess. Has her own pace. But she always does whatever she wants, I don’t really get her.”</p>
<p>“Maybe that’s what you like about her, somebody who lives their life doing whatever they want no matter what the consequences. That kind of courage can be very charismatic.”</p>
<p>“That’s just wrong. I don’t want to get involved with her if it means I get into trouble.”</p>
<p>“You’re the straightest kid in that school, maybe you wanted to let off some steam. You’re a Gallagher, wanting to make bad decisions kinda runs in our blood.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to be defined by my family name, nor my ethnic roots. Being a Gallagher or being black does not mean I need to act a certain way,” Liam responds sternly.</p>
<p>“It’s okay doing something bad once in a while, you know. You are putting too much pressure on yourself. You can be whatever you want, just cut yourself some slack,” Ian replies, holding out the cigarette to him.</p>
<p>“No, thank you. I really don’t have any urges to make bad decisions,” Liam assures, pushing his hand away.</p>
<p>“That brings us back to why you were breaking into the teacher’s lounge then, doesn’t it?” Ian points out amused.</p>
<p>“Maybe I do like her a little, but I don’t understand why,” Liam mutters and sighs. “How could I like somebody like that?”</p>
<p>“Sometimes we tend to fall in love with the people that balance us out. Some people are able to reach you where others can’t. I don’t think you really need to break your head about the why. Usually the heart knows before the brain catches up. Give it some time,” Ian says, patting him on the back.</p>
<p>“When did you know you liked Mickey?” Liam asks, eyeing him curiously.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t really complicated back then. I was gay, Mickey was gay, gay beggars can’t be choosers,” Ian explains and shrugs, flicking the cigarette butt away.</p>
<p>“So, you just got used to him?”</p>
<p>Ian thinks back to the time he stumbled into Mickey’s bedroom, picking a fight with him and then finding out Mickey was gay, too. That first time with him was so different to anyone he’d made out before. He can’t lie, he was instantly gone for Mickey.</p>
<p>“It might have been the other way around. Had to do a whole lot of convincing to get him to let me in,” Ian admits laughing.</p>
<p>“Does that mean you kept on hanging out with him until he liked you back?”</p>
<p>“Mostly spend time with his sister, so I could sneak off with him. He was so far into the closet, you wouldn’t believe it,” Ian huffs, thinking back to the beginning of their relationship.</p>
<p>“I mean Terry,” Liam points out, kind of understanding why Mickey didn’t want to come out in that family.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Ian concedes. “But you know what? He came out in front of his entire family at the Alibi for me in the end. Got the fucking shit beaten out of us that night,” he says laughing, rounding the corner to their street. “If you like that girl, don’t give up. You never know, you might end up married to her ten years later.”</p>
<p>“Marriage might just be a tad too much to think about at this point, Ian,” Liam replies.</p>
<p>“All I’m saying is, if a part of you wants to hang out with her, just do it. Try asking her out.”</p>
<p>“How do you ask someone out on a date? Also, I’m ten. What would a date even look like at our age?” Liam asks, genuinely out of his depth here.</p>
<p>“Actually I really don’t know. Mickey and I never went on a date,” Ian answers truthfully, thinking back about the time he wanted to take Mickey to Sizzlers on their first date but was arrested by the MPs that evening.</p>
<p>“You never went on a date? But you’re married and you’ve known each other for such a long time,” Liam points out baffled.</p>
<p>“I guess we’re just not the type to go on dates. Every relationship is different. You’re ten, so what? Invite her over to do your science project. Just try to spend more time with her,” Ian says, opening the fence gate.</p>
<p>“What if she drags me into something bad again?” Liam asks honestly concerned.</p>
<p>“Just tell her you’re not interested in getting into trouble, if she likes you, she’ll be fine just hanging out doing homework with you,” he replies, walking through the front door.</p>
<p>Mickey is sitting on the couch watching TV, beer in hand. Liam stops at the stairs and then turns to hug Ian.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Liam says and Ian knows he doesn’t only mean for picking him up from the police station and being so cool about it.</p>
<p>“Anytime,” he responds and watches him leave for his room.</p>
<p>“Miss anything?” Mickey asks.</p>
<p>“Tell you later,” Ian simply replies, leaning over the back of the couch, angling Mickey’s head so he can kiss him upside down.</p>
<p>“Welcome home,” Mickey whispers against Ian’s lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who are we scamming?” Mickey asks, dubiously eyeing Ian walking next to him.</p>
<p>“What? We’re not scamming anyone. Why would you think that?” Ian responds, taking the last drag of his cigarette and then flicking it away.</p>
<p>“If this isn’t for a scam of some sort, then why are we dressed like we’re going to court?” He wants to know, pulling at his olive green dress shirt.</p>
<p>The Milkovichs must be the only people in the world that would exclusively associate dressing nicely with court hearings. Ian rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with looking nice once in a while?” Ian counters, avoiding a night jogger on the sidewalk.</p>
<p>“I don’t have nice clothes, Ian. I literally had to buy this shirt, because you asked me to dress sharp,” Mickey retorts, eyebrows furrowed.</p>
<p>“Looks good on you,” he comments, liking the color on Mickey.</p>
<p>“It better, cost me fifty bucks,” Mickey laments loudly. “Where are we going anyway?”</p>
<p>“Dinner.”</p>
<p>“Are we trying out that new hot dog stand on Main? Heard people are standing crazy in line for the Slaw Dog.”</p>
<p>“No, actual dinner, Mickey,” Ian replies.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with hot dogs?” Mickey asks offended, following Ian when he turns at the intersection.</p>
<p>“Hot dogs aren’t exactly what I had in mind for tonight,” he answers patiently.</p>
<p>“Tacos?”</p>
<p>“No, not tacos either.”</p>
<p>“Where are we going then?”</p>
<p>“Liam made me realize that we haven’t actually gone on a date yet. Which is why I thought we could finally have that first date,” he explains, scratching the corner of his lips.</p>
<p>“What are you talking about? We go out all the time,” Mickey states confused.</p>
<p>“We go and buy takeout or drink a couple of beers at Kev’s, those aren’t dates.”</p>
<p>“What’s the difference?” Mickey asks, completely missing the point Ian tries to make.</p>
<p>“Intent for one,” Ian replies and stops in front of a restaurant, pointing to the sign. “And we promised we’d come here before, didn’t we?”</p>
<p>With furrowed brows he turns around to see to what Ian is referring. “Sizzlers?”</p>
<p>“We were supposed to go that night the MPs arrested me,” Ian says.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I remember,” Mickey responds, scratching his temple.</p>
<p>“What do you say?” Ian looks at Mickey, hopeful and nervous at the same time for some reason. “We never actually managed to come here in the end.”</p>
<p>“That’s because you broke up with me shortly after we said we’d go,” he replies, tone carefully reserved.</p>
<p>Mickey still looks a bit hurt just thinking about it and Ian starts to think this might not have been a good idea after all.</p>
<p>“I know,” Ian says, unsure how to respond.</p>
<p>Mickey looks at him for a moment, face impassive, but then scoffs out a laugh. “Always room for steak, right?”</p>
<p>Ian returns the smile and throws his arm over Mickey’s shoulder, putting him in a little headlock for messing with him. Mickey shoves him away and grins mischievously. When they enter through the double doors they are greeted by one of the waiters, telling them that they’ve got a full house and are currently not taking any walk-ins.</p>
<p>“That’s alright, I called earlier and made a reservation,” Ian says, stepping closer.</p>
<p>“Ah, great! Under which name?” The cheery young blond asks.</p>
<p>“Gallagher-Milkovich,” Ian answers and sees Mickey spare him a curious side-glance upon hearing the name.</p>
<p>“Table for two, right this way,” she states and leads them to their table. She hands them the menus and takes their drink order, letting them know she’d be back once they’ve decided on the food.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna get a steak as big as the cow it came from,” Mickey states spirited, studying the menu.</p>
<p>“Get whatever you want, I’m paying,” Ian responds amused.</p>
<p>“Free steak, good-looking company, next you tell me you also put out, I might just be able to get behind this dating thing,” Mickey says chuckling.</p>
<p>“Let’s see how the night goes, you might just get lucky,” he replies, already looking forward to after the dinner. And by the look of it Mickey is already debating whether to skip dessert later as well. Ian tries to steer the conversation in a different direction to make sure dinner doesn’t end up becoming a lot shorter than planned. “How was your day?”</p>
<p>“Real interesting actually,” Mickey replies, letting the menu drop on the table after deciding on what to get. “Remember that bank manager from the robbery? Guy offered me a job as their new security. Apparently they sent grandpa into early retirement and are looking for a replacement now.”</p>
<p>“Shit, really? Does he know you’re an ex-con?”</p>
<p>“Told him, but he was still willing to hire me. Crazy, right?” Mickey huffs, not sure what to make of that.</p>
<p>“Must have been really impressed by you, you did knock out two armed robbers,” Ian points out. “You gonna take the job?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, man. My association with banks usually revolved around robbing them, not keepin’ them from being robbed,” Mickey explains shrugging.</p>
<p>“Which evidently makes you the best person for the job. Why not take him up on the offer? You hate the other place.”</p>
<p>“Guarding Benjamins instead of drawers does sound like an upgrade, pay is better, too. But not sure parole will even allow it. Gotta speak with Larry first,” Mickey replies, scratching his temple.</p>
<p>Dropping their drinks off, the waitress takes their food order and Ian has to stifle a laugh seeing Mickey’s eyes almost bug out when she lights a candle for them, winking at them conspiratorially.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with her?” Mickey asks bewildered.</p>
<p>“Well, this is supposed to be a date. She probably wanted to set the mood,” he replies.</p>
<p>“So, what is it you do on a first date anyway?” Mickey asks.</p>
<p>“Usually you try to get to know each other,” Ian answers, huffing amused, seeing as there really isn’t much Mickey and Ian don’t know about each other.</p>
<p>“Yeah? Anything I should know? You been in prison before?” Mickey quips playfully.</p>
<p>“That a deal breaker?” Ian cocks an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Nah, just my kind of guy, actually,” Mickey replies, licking the corner of his lips. “What’s your rap?”</p>
<p>“Arson.”</p>
<p>“Hot in all ways, I see,” Mickey comments, making Ian laugh.</p>
<p>Ian looks at Mickey, smiling. He takes his hand, gently brushing his thumb over Mickey’s tattooed fingers.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he says.</p>
<p>“The big L-word on the first date? Aren’t ya worried you’ll scare me off?” Mickey responds, gazing into Ian’s eyes.</p>
<p>“You don’t look the type that scares easy.”</p>
<p>“Lucky for you I really don’t.”</p>
<p>And Ian does feel lucky, incredibly so. As cheesy as it is, he wishes he could stop time right now to stay in this easy and peaceful moment with Mickey. Loves the way Mickey’s hand feels so warm in his and loves the way Mickey looks at him. Loves the way it steals his breath. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else as Mickey starts talking about his time in Mexico. About his work with the drug cartel and his very own fighter cock he seems to have been strangely attached to while living south the border. Surprisingly, there are still things he doesn’t know about Mickey.</p>
<p>“What happened to him?” Ian asks curiously as he finishes the last of his dinner.</p>
<p>“Had to give up my little feathery friend when I decided to go back to prison. I gave him to the newbie and made him promise to keep my legacy going. Hope Paco still tears his enemies’ guts out over there,” Mickey replies wistfully.</p>
<p>“I’m sure he does,” Ian responds amused. “Do you miss being down there sometimes?”</p>
<p>“Compared to being here with you? Do you even have to ask?” Mickey answers.</p>
<p>“Not gonna lie, feel like I’m competing a little with Paco here.”</p>
<p>“You better not mean that literal, he’d kick your ass,” Mickey says, chuckling. “And no, if Mexico had been enough, I wouldn’t have let myself get thrown back into the can again for you.”</p>
<p>“A lot has happened, huh? But ten years down the road we still end up back with each other. After prison, marriage, and homicidal father-in-laws, we finally have our first date. We never did things in order, did we?” Ian huffs.</p>
<p>“We’ve never been much of the traditional type,” Mickey retorts in agreement.</p>
<p>“Speaking of homicidal father-in-laws, what are we gonna do about Terry?” He asks sighing.</p>
<p>“You know what we gotta do. Can’t keep sitting around waiting for him to pop us.”</p>
<p>“I know. Any ideas where he might be holing up?”</p>
<p>“No and given how quiet it’s been, he ain’t up to anything good. He’s probably making sure to find a good dumping spot,” Mickey replies concerned. He glances around, making certain nobody is listening in on their conversation. “Once I do find him though, I gotta see to it he ain’t ever gonna be a problem again. Do the job right and then drop him where nobody will ever find his body.”</p>
<p>“You mean <em>we. </em>We do this together,” Ian says. “This is our problem and we’ll face him together. You and me, always.”</p>
<p>Mickey regards him softly. “Yeah, you and me.”</p>
<p>“Actually you talking about Mexico gave me a different idea how we could handle this,” Ian says.</p>
<p>“Really? Let’s hear it.”</p>
<p>“We could just make it so he can’t reach us,” he begins explaining.</p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p>“We could leave,” he responds, watching Mickey closely.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Mickey asks confused.</p>
<p>“Leave Chicago. Actually I was thinking a lot further,” Ian replies.</p>
<p>Mickey puts down the cutlery and turns his full attention to him, regarding him quizzically. “You mean leave <em>leave</em>?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Where would we go?”</p>
<p>“I’d say Mexico, but since you’re not exactly welcome there, how about Brazil? Heard they have nice beaches down there,” Ian answers. “Look, Debbie’s parole hearing is coming up and once she’s out, we won’t have to worry about Franny and Liam anymore. There’s nothing stopping us, we can just go. Terry won’t follow us and we can live peacefully just the two of us.”</p>
<p>“You’re serious,” Mickey states taken aback.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m serious, Mickey. I love you and I wanna make sure you’re okay. If that means taking off I don’t care where it is, as long as we’re together.”</p>
<p>“You would leave your family behind for me?”</p>
<p>“They’ll be fine,” Ian answers and while he would rather live with Mickey here with his family, he knows they would be okay without him. But Mickey wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t be okay without Mickey.</p>
<p>“You realize we’d be breaking parole? We could never return, not with the rest of my 15-year sentence waiting for me. You wouldn’t be able to see them again,” Mickey says, putting emphasis to his words. He looks at Ian seriously, trying to make sure he actually understands what he would be giving up.</p>
<p>“I know, but if that’s what it takes to make sure you’re safe, I can live with that,” Ian replies earnestly. Mickey looks at him and Ian can see in his eyes that he is torn between being happy Ian would go so far to protect him and feeling uncertain if he can allow himself to trust Ian to follow through this time. “Back then I wasn’t ready to cross the border with you, but I am now. I want to be with you and I don’t care where that is. I’m ready for anything.”</p>
<p>“I’m not even sure I want you to do this. You love your family, I can’t ask you to choose me over them,” Mickey responds.</p>
<p>Ian takes Mickey’s hand in his own and makes him look at him.</p>
<p>“You’re my family, too. And as I see it, Terry won’t give up until one of you is in the ground. As long as we stay here we’ve always gotta watch our backs. But there’s only so much we can influence. What if he jumps you when you’re alone? I don’t wanna wait for something to happen. We can just take ourselves out of the equation by disappearing.”</p>
<p>“Or we take him out,” Mickey counters.</p>
<p>“This is different from what we did the other night. Chances are high we won’t get away with it. It’d be a long time until we got out of prison, if we actually do get out again. Worst case scenario we don’t even end up in the same penitentiary,” Ian explains, not liking to entertain the idea at all.</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“I’m not the same person I was when we parted at the border. I’m not even the same person I was when I backed out at the courthouse. I want to do this, I want to be with you,” he states, squeezing Mickey’s hand.</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to do this, only because you feel like you have to prove something to me. I don’t- I don’t look back to those times and resent you for rejecting me. Not anymore. We’re good,” Mickey replies seriously.</p>
<p>“This isn’t about proving something to you or to me. Believe me, all I want is for us to be together,” Ian says, placing his other hand on Mickey’s as well.</p>
<p>“This is big, Ian. It means the rest of our lives,” Mickey responds, looking into his eyes.</p>
<p>“As soon as Debbie is out, let’s go,” Ian replies and lifts the corner of his lips into a small smile. “What do you say? One last road trip?”</p>
<p>“One last road trip?” Mickey asks, meeting Ian’s eyes.</p>
<p>“One last road trip,” Ian confirms without doubt in his mind. He wants to do this, he isn’t scared anymore. He is ready to leap with both feet.</p>
<p>“Let’s do it then,” Mickey responds, letting out a small laugh, and puts both his hands in Ian’s.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yo, how is it going?” Lip greets when he enters through the back door.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Ian replies over his shoulder. He is currently sorting though the dirty laundry pile, preparing a load to wash.</p>
<p>While Lip has moved out, he still comes to visit the Gallagher house as much as possible. Partly because he feels responsible as the oldest to make sure Carl, Liam, and Franny are taken care of even if he isn’t living under the same roof any longer, partly because he needs his support system in his battle against his addiction, still taking it day by day, but mostly because he misses them.</p>
<p>“Who is that?” Lip asks, nodding to the living room where Liam is sitting with Heather, working on their homework.</p>
<p>“Liam’s friend from school,” he answers, smirking.</p>
<p>“Friend, huh?” Lip chuckles and opens the cupboard.</p>
<p>“So far,” Ian replies, deciding to throw a pair of Mickey’s socks away that should have been discarded years ago, given the amount of holes their sporting.</p>
<p>Lip tosses a few bills inside the squirrel fund and then puts the can back. He spots one of Franny’s books on the counter and eyes the title with a raised eyebrow.</p>
<p>“My Day at the Zoo,” he reads out loud and then looks at Ian incredulously.</p>
<p>“Mickey bought it,” Ian replies simply.</p>
<p>Lip eyes him curiously for a moment, leaning back against the counter. He starts chuckling when he recognizes what Ian is holding in his hands.</p>
<p>“That Carl’s underwear you’re washing?”</p>
<p>Nodding, Ian throws them disdainfully in the washer.</p>
<p>“Oh, Ian, just couldn’t keep it in your pants, huh?” Lip states laughing.</p>
<p>“No,” Ian admits miserably.</p>
<p>“I really thought the prospect of having to do Carl’s laundry would shut down your libido. Bet you’re feeling real good about your transgression right about now,” Lip says laughing, watching him from his place against the counter. “Who caught you anyway? And where?”</p>
<p>“Carl with Franny, back porch.”</p>
<p>“Jesus, Ian, you guys are worse than teenagers. In fact, given how much you had to sneak around at that age, one would think you could be more discreet,” Lip says shaking his head.</p>
<p>“It just happened,” Ian offers pathetically.</p>
<p>“Please explain that to me. Exactly how is it you cannot just choose your very own bedroom, which is merely a few seconds away, to get busy in?” He asks expectantly.</p>
<p>“We just came back from our date and forgot the keys upstairs. At that point there was no stopping that train anymore,” Ian explains, banging the washing machine shut and reaching for the detergent.</p>
<p>“You two went on a date? An actual date? Can’t really picture Mickey in that particular setting,” Lip replies amused.</p>
<p>“Believe it, all including lit candles and shit,” Ian responds as he chooses the program.</p>
<p>Lip outright laughs at that.</p>
<p>“Man, never thought I’d live to see the day. You guys have become real cute, you know that?”</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Ian retorts, joining his brother at the counter. “When was the last time you and Tami went on a date?”</p>
<p>“Just about how old Freddie is,” Lip huffs.</p>
<p>“Word of advice, don’t wait as long as Mickey and I did. If you need someone to watch Freddie to have an evening to yourselves, just let me know, we’ll babysit him,” he offers, bumping his shoulder against Lip’s.</p>
<p>“You guys look like you’re in a really good place though, right?”</p>
<p>“We are, but I guess you shouldn’t take things for granted. Make an effort with Tami, she deserves it.”</p>
<p>“Are you actually giving me love advice based on your relationship with Mickey?” Lip asks amused, making Ian laugh.</p>
<p>“I guess so.”</p>
<p>“Marriage seems to become you. Gotta say I’ve never seen you happier,” Lip states and looks at Ian.</p>
<p>Ian thinks back over the few months they’ve been married and how they’ve gotten accustomed to their new lives. He returns Lip’s stare earnestly.</p>
<p>“Never been happier in my life,” Ian admits softly.</p>
<p>Lip smiles, bobbing his head gently in response.</p>
<p>“Good, that’s real good. I’m proud of you. We never had it easy in this house, but you managed to build yourself something good here. Hold on to that, alright?” Lip says, tapping him affectionately on his chest, right above his heart.</p>
<p>All his life he’s had Lip on who he could rely, always looking out for him. He can’t imagine having grown up without him. He lets his weight push against Lip’s side, grateful their relationship never changed.</p>
<p>“I will.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The bleachers?” Ian asks, looking over to Mickey sardonically. Mickey just shrugs, small smile on his face.</p>
<p>They climb over the fence and head to the dugout where Mickey tosses the bag he’s been carrying. Ian takes a moment to look around, feeling somewhat nostalgic. They’ve made a lot of memories here, mostly good ones and it makes him happy that after so many years they still managed to return here together.</p>
<p>“So, you brought me here, because you felt like getting fucked against the railings like old times?”</p>
<p>“That and I thought we could have a second date,” Mickey replies easily, fishing out a plastic container, shaking it in the air symbolically.</p>
<p>“Two dates in so many weeks, we’re jacking the statistic,” Ian responds.</p>
<p>“Figured we’d have some catchin’ up to do,” Mickey states, raising an eyebrow in apparent invitation.</p>
<p>Ian smiles, takes the container out of Mickey’s hand and plops down on the bench, checking what else Mickey had packed.</p>
<p>“Did you bring a fucking blanket?” He asks in disbelief.</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Mickey bites back, taking it out to fiddle around with it. “It’s for ambiance… or whatever shit.”</p>
<p>“You want us to lie down and watch the stars, too?” Ian looks at Mickey expectantly.</p>
<p>“Fuck you, excuse me for trying to make this romantic,” Mickey responds, taking the bag and walking onto the pitch.</p>
<p>“Since when are we romantic?” He asks, slowly trotting after him, container still in hand. “We used to come here to fuck, fuck, and then fuck some more.”</p>
<p>“We’re not 17 anymore, getting off 24/7 isn’t the only thing I think about,” Mickey says, spreading the blanket.</p>
<p>“Really?” Ian drapes himself against Mickey’s back, licking and kissing his neck.</p>
<p>“Compelling case you’re makin’ here, but how about after dinner?” Mickey suggests, his arm thrown back to let his hand brush through Ian’s hair softly.</p>
<p>“Sure?” Ian breathes against his skin, still sucking and kissing lazily behind him.</p>
<p>“I made mac'n'cheese,” Mickey says, knowing it would halt Ian in his tracks. Ian rests his chin on Mickey’s shoulder and looks over, opening the food container and happily noting Mickey was telling the truth. He pulls him tighter, nuzzling against the side of his neck, sighing contently.</p>
<p>“I can get behind romantic for your mac'n'cheese.”</p>
<p>It’s honestly one of Ian’s favorites. They sit down and get comfortable, starting on the sixpack Mickey had brought along. Mickey pulls out two forks, handing one over to Ian and keeping one to dig into his own container.</p>
<p>“I fucking love your mac'n'cheese, man,” Ian practically moans.</p>
<p>Mickey furrows his eyebrows dubiously.</p>
<p>“It’s just mac'n'cheese.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but you use real cheese,” Ian replies between bites. Mickey huffs, shaking his head. “Also, something else. I tried making it once when you were in prison, just couldn’t get it to taste like yours. What’s your secret?”</p>
<p>“Think I’d tell you? Now that I know I can use it against you,” he responds grinning. “Besides the secret to keeping a husband is to keep him fed.”</p>
<p>“You make such a good wife, Mickey. Had I known, I would have married you years ago,” Ian states, acting indifferent.</p>
<p>“Call me wife again and I’ll neuter you,” Mickey threatens, but they both start laughing.</p>
<p>They sit in comfortable silence, eating their dinner and Ian can’t help but notice, that the sky is so clear tonight they can actually see the stars. He refrains from making a comment though, admitting to himself that he enjoys the whole setup more than he’d have thought. Ruefully he finishes the last of Mickey’s mac'n'cheese, tossing the plastic container to the side. He takes another beer and lies back on the blanket. Mickey, sitting next to him, lights a cigarette with one hand and rests the other on Ian’s inner thigh, squeezing softly.</p>
<p>“I’m getting buzzed,” Ian admits, letting the beer slosh around in the can.</p>
<p>“Pussy,” Mickey scoffs amused, holding the smoke out for Ian.</p>
<p>“Had to up the meds a little after, you know,” he explains shrugging. “Trying to get back to the old dosage soon.”</p>
<p>“You’re doing better though, right?” Mickey asks, looking over his shoulder.</p>
<p>A few years back he wouldn’t have been able to bear this kind of concern from Mickey, now he is relieved to find it’s just a simple question he can safely answer.</p>
<p>“Yeah, thanks to you.”</p>
<p>The insomnia hasn’t been an issue since the night they followed that guy into the alley, his conscience finally at ease knowing the guy wouldn’t be able to lift a finger against a woman any longer.</p>
<p>“Good. Tell me if that changes,” Mickey says, squeezing his thigh affectionately.</p>
<p>“I will,” Ian promises. He looks into Mickey’s eyes, the blues vibrant in spite of the dark. He takes Mickey’s hand from his leg and yanks him down next to him. Absently, he notices Mickey flipping away his cigarette in the process before his hand comes up to cradle his head gently. Mickey looks over his face in that fond way of his, smiling softly.</p>
<p>Looking at Mickey’s happy face this close, has his heart skip faster, has his skin heat up, and his breath held hostage. He’s never been in love with someone this much. Feels like this kind of love is one in a million.</p>
<p>“Sometimes I can’t believe we actually made it. It took us a decade but now we’re here,” Ian says softly and brushes his fingers through Mickey’s hair. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”</p>
<p>“Some things are worth chasing after,” Mickey replies, closing the last few inches to kiss him.</p>
<p>He likes kissing Mickey. He’s never kissed anyone whose lips would slot so perfectly against his own. Would have the right press and softness. Would taste so good.</p>
<p>Mickey tastes like his favorite person in the world.</p>
<p>When they separate and Ian looks into Mickey’s eyes, he gets a sudden urge for which he blames the alcohol. He springs to his feet, fishes his phone out of his back pocket, and selects their wedding playlist. He throws the phone on the blanket and holds his hand out in invitation.</p>
<p>“You’re kidding,” Mickey huffs out.</p>
<p>“You promised me a romantic date,” Ian replies.</p>
<p>“I’m not gonna dance with you out here! I’m not gonna dace, period,” Mickey says incredulously.</p>
<p>“You did at our wedding.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, that was our wedding,” Mickey mutters.</p>
<p>“C’mon, nobody is here to see us.” Ian gestures around them.</p>
<p>Mickey looks around uncomfortably, returning his gaze to Ian, gauging how much his husband really wants this. He sighs and shakes his head dramatically.</p>
<p>“One song!”</p>
<p>Ian chuckles and pulls Mickey up right into his arms.</p>
<p>“You speak of this to anyone-” Ian shushes him and starts moving to the beat currently playing. Much like the wedding, they simply lie in each other’s arms and sway to the music. “You’re so weird. A blanket is too romantic for ya, but dancing in the open under moonlight is alright?”</p>
<p>“I’m drunk,” Ian responds simply.</p>
<p>“Not that drunk you’re not.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m not,” Ian agrees.</p>
<p>The second song comes up and they keep dancing.</p>
<p>“Let’s come back here once in a while,” Ian says into the groove of Mickey’s neck.</p>
<p>“Do I have to dance with you every time?”</p>
<p>“I could be bribed with your mac'n'cheese,” Ian muses softly.</p>
<p>“Because that worked out so well for me tonight,” Mickey points out without bite.</p>
<p>“You just gotta roll the dice and see, I guess,” he says softly into the shell of his ear, pressing his head against Mickey’s cheek. He closes his eyes and enjoys the warmth that emits from him, the soft feeling of skin on skin contact, the comfort of holding Mickey in his arms. His fingers move gently over his shoulder, brushing the fair skin at the nape of his neck for a moment before sliding into the black strands of hair. Cupping his head, Ian rolls his head along Mickey’s temple until they’re forehead to forehead. He takes a moment and just sways with the music like this. Feels Mickey’s exhales softly tickling his skin. Smells that unique scent that is Mickey and the clinging aroma of tobacco. He takes a deep breath, slowly opening his eyes and contently exhaling upon the sight in front of him. Mickey’s blue eyes regard him softly, illuminated by the moonlight ever so slightly. Mickey’s hand moves up to cup his face, his thumb caressing his cheekbone gently and Ian lets himself lean into the touch. Lets their bodies press closer until their lips are brushing featherlight against each other. This moment feels like absolute bliss to Ian. If it were in his nature he would vex poetics about all the things he loves about Mickey. About how he fell in love with this incredible man in front of him, who made his life better simply by being in it. Who took care of him in every which way he knew how. Who has always seen someone to love in Ian even at times when Ian himself couldn’t. Who opened up to the point of utterly baring his soul and body to him. Who showed him how much he loves him with grand and little gestures that spanned over time, miles, and skin. Who gave him friendship, trust, protection, hope, family, and love. Who promised to give him a home in him for the rest of his life. If it were in his nature, he would tell him all that and so much more. Because Mickey deserves to hear it. He hates himself for being unable to do so. He wishes that someday he can find it in him to tell Mickey all the things he can’t right now. For the moment he meets Mickey’s eyes and hopes that he can somehow read it in the way he looks at him. Hopes that he can feel the love he holds. Hopes that he can see how much his heart beats for him. He presses their lips together and lets himself fall into the familiar feeling. Breathes and tastes Mickey for the thousandth time and for the thousandth time he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but hanging on these warm lips.</p>
<p>The kiss soon turns heated, their touches more erratic. Their exhales mingle harshly against their lips and Ian feels the familiar heat build up.</p>
<p>“You’re finally gonna fuck me against the railings?” Mickey laughs softly when Ian peels his jacket off him.</p>
<p>Ian thinks back to the wedding night, after they had gotten out the rough and immediate need for gratification, when their touches became softer and their bodies moved to the same languid rhythm. The way Mickey had smiled and gazed into his eyes.</p>
<p>“No,” Ian says, a playful quip to his voice. “I’m gonna make love to you.”</p>
<p>“Shut your mouth,” Mickey scoffs and shoves him away, but Ian immediately pulls him back into his arms, not letting him go.</p>
<p>“This is gonna happen, so get on board quick. We’re gonna do it on that stupid blanket you brought. Under the stupid moonlight we danced to,” Ian states determinedly and pushes them down to the ground.</p>
<p>“Fuck off,” Mickey laughs out under him, letting himself get kissed.</p>
<p>They lazily let their naked bodies entwine, share soft kisses, and gently call their names into the starry night. And Ian knows before they’re even done that the list of best sex they’ve both ever had has a new number one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Welcome home,” Lip greets when Ian steps into the living room. All the resident Gallaghers are present, chilling on the sofa, watching a movie. “Where’ve you been?</p>
<p>“Had an appointment,” Ian answers, the corner of his lips rising into a private smile.</p>
<p>“Come sit down and join us for some Snatch,” Lip says, softly stroking the back of a sleeping Freddie currently cradled to his chest. Liam is sitting next to him and Carl is lying back on the recliner with Franny on his lap.</p>
<p>He joins them on the sofa, throwing his arm around Liam’s shoulder. A lazy night with his family watching Snatch sounds perfect to him right now. Knows Mickey loves that movie, too. The film has just started, so there’s a chance Mickey will be able to join them for most of it if he returns home soon.</p>
<p>They are harshly startled when somebody is banging at their door. Before he has even rounded the couch, he hears his full name being called from outside. Ian shares a quizzical look with his brothers and opens the door to find a very ruffled and upset middle-aged man in front of him.</p>
<p>“Ian Gallagher?” The man asks, relieved somebody answered the door.</p>
<p>“Yes, who wants to know?” Ian shoots back suspiciously.</p>
<p>“M-My name is Larry Seaver. I’m Mr. Milkovich’s PO,” he introduces himself briefly, but still frantic.</p>
<p>“Mickey?” Ian asks concerned. Now that he has a better look at the man, he can see there’s blood on his clothes. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>“I-I am so sorry to have to tell you that Mr. Milkovich was shot a-and has been rushed to the emergency room,” Larry stammers out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He storms through the emergency room doors, Larry and his family right behind him, and heads to the counter.</p>
<p>“I’m here to see Mickey Milkovich! How is he?” The words rush out of him, leaving him breathless. The nurse seems to try and recall which patients have been recently admitted, looking through a chart to check the names. “He’s been shot.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Mr. Milkovich is currently in the OR. What’s your name and relation to the patient?” He asks, pulling out some paper work.</p>
<p>“I’m his husband, Ian Gallagher. Please tell me how he’s doing!”</p>
<p>“Mr. Milkovich was admitted with two gunshot wounds. One to his chest and one to his abdomen. Dr. Yukimura is currently operating on him. Please fill this out and bring it back to me.”</p>
<p>“Fuck,” he hears Carl and Lip swear behind him. Ian had taken a ride with Larry while the others followed them in his car, so they hadn’t heard the details yet.</p>
<p>“When can I see him?”</p>
<p>“He is still in critical condition. As soon as Dr. Yukimura has finished the operation, she’ll be able to tell you more,” he says, stressed but not unkind. “Have a seat. If there’s any updates I will let you know immediately.”</p>
<p>Lip pats him on his shoulder, pulling him to the seating area. “He’ll be fine, Ian.”</p>
<p>“What happened?” Carl asks, still shocked by the news.</p>
<p>“Mr. Seaver?” Two men with badges hanging around their necks but in informal street clothes approach the waiting area.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m Larry Seaver,” Larry says, turning around.</p>
<p>“I am Detective Tanks, this is Detective Drake,” the taller black man says, gesturing to his partner in the leather jacket. “We’re here about the reported shooting concerning Mikhailo Milkovich. We’ll need to take your statement.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Larry replies, nodding.</p>
<p>“You’re his PO? And you were with the victim during the shooting?”</p>
<p>“Yes, that is correct, it happened i-in the alley behind my office. Right after we finished our weekly meeting. We were discussing his new job, you know,” he explains upset, looking at everyone.</p>
<p>“And who are you?” Detective Drake asks.</p>
<p>“I’m his husband,” Ian says at the same time his brothers chime in.</p>
<p>“We’re his family.”</p>
<p>“You’re his husband?” Detective Tanks turns to Ian. “Your name?”</p>
<p>“Ian Gallagher,” he answers, watching him write it down.</p>
<p>“Mr. Seaver, please continue, what happened exactly?”</p>
<p>“Mr. Milkovich came by for his regular check-in, a model parolee I would like to add at this point,” Larry begins and Ian can’t help but think how, if Mickey had heard him say this, he would pretend to hate being referred to as a model parolee, even though Ian knows Mickey has come around on Larry a long time ago now. “After the meeting, I walked him down, we parted, and he headed to the subway. I forgot to invite him to my Sunday barbecue, it’s a regular thing we do at our house and I thought it would be nice to have Mr. Milkovich and Mr. Gallagher join us, so uh, I tried to catch up with him. When I rounded the corner I saw Mr. Milkovich standing at gunpoint in front of three men. T-They were talking about taking him for a ride, they threatened him, demanding he follow them or they’d shoot. Mr. Milkovich refused. H-He said, that if they were going to murder him, they ‘better have the guts to do it right here’,” Larry quotes.</p>
<p>Of course he said that, Ian thinks, pressing his eyes shut.</p>
<p>“The men clearly stated they planned to murder him?” Detective Tanks follows up.</p>
<p>“Yes, the man, who looked like he was in charge, he told Mr. Milkovich that he had already dug a grave for him over at Pike Cemetery. And that he would happily dig another for Mr. Gallagher if he didn’t come along quietly.”</p>
<p>“What did Mickey say?” Ian asks, his anger pricking tears into his eyes.</p>
<p>Larry looks at him kindly. “He said, if he went down without a fight, you’d never forgive him.”</p>
<p>A laugh forces itself out of Ian, nodding in response. He wipes away the tears that escaped, sniffing once. “He’s damn right about that.”</p>
<p>Carl squeezes his shoulder and the detectives share a sympathetic look with Ian before they turn their attention back to Larry.</p>
<p>“Pike Cemetery, was it? We’ll check it out right away,” Detective Drake says.</p>
<p>“What happened next?” Detective Tanks asks.</p>
<p>“I called the police. I have a license to carry, but I-I rarely bring my gun along. It’s in my office in the safe. But the situation seemed to escalate, so I stepped in. I had to do something! I asked them to please put down their weapons and nobody needed to get hurt, right, but when I told them I had already called for the police, they started shooting. Mr. Milkovich pushed me behind a dumpster where we took cover until the gun shots stopped and the men had run away. W-When I turned around I saw Mr. Milkovich on the ground bleeding heavily! The police arrived shortly afterwards and the rest is as you know it. Mr. Milkovich was rushed to the hospital.”</p>
<p>“Do you have any idea who the gun men were?” Detective Drake asks.</p>
<p>“I don’t know about the other two, but Mr. Milkovich referred to the man that had been talking to him the whole time as his father,” Larry says.</p>
<p>“Terry Milkovich,” Ian clarifies further. “He’s threatened to kill Mickey ever since he heard that we were getting married.”</p>
<p>“He burnt down the Bamboo Lotus on their wedding day to try and stop the ceremony,” Lip says.</p>
<p>“Shot up their honey moon suite, too,” Carl adds.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to hear all that,” Detective Tanks responds sincerely. “We’d like you both to come down to the station within the next few days to give your official statements. Please call us if you happen to receive any information on Terry Milkovich’s whereabouts. We’ll have an arrest warrant issued, but it would help to know about some of Mr. Milkovich’s usual hangout places.”</p>
<p>“I’ll talk to Mickey’s brothers, see what I can find out,” Ian says visibly wrung out.</p>
<p>The detectives thank them for their time and leave after handing out their contact information.</p>
<p>“Fucking Terry!” Carl swears.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, Ian,” Lip says.</p>
<p>Ian doesn’t know what to say. He just numbly sits there hoping Mickey will pull through. It’s all he can think about. They wait and wait and every minute feels like physical torture. They have settled in except for Larry who had to go home to his family. Franny is sleeping with her head in Liam’s lap. Carl is nervously pacing down the corridors for hours now. Lip had been rocking Freddie on his hip until Tami came by to pick him up and pull Ian into a comforting hug. And now he’s just sitting silently next to Ian, bringing him coffee and water occasionally. Ian had shortly stepped out to call Iggy to break the news, but so far he hasn’t shown up. After the fifth time of unsuccessfully asking the nurse for an update, he’s resigned himself to sit in his seat, watching the clock hands go in circles.</p>
<p>It takes four hours until finally a middle-aged woman in scrubs steps up to them and asks for Ian. The Asian lady introduces herself as the surgeon in charge of Mickey’s operation.</p>
<p>“How’s my husband?” Ian jumps up, his heart pounding against his ribcage.</p>
<p>“He was admitted with two gunshot wounds. One of the bullets perforated his kidney. The other hit close to his heart. We managed to stop the bleedings and suture the wounds. But he’s lost a lot of blood and one of his lungs collapsed during the procedure. At one point we had to initiate resuscitation,” Dr. Yukimura explains.</p>
<p>“He’s fine though, right?” Ian asks desperately.</p>
<p>“Yes, while he’s in critical care, he’s stable at the moment,” she replies.</p>
<p>They all exhale in relief upon hearing Mickey’s alive and stable; Ian doesn’t even know how he’s standing at the moment, he can’t feel his legs.</p>
<p>“Thank you…” He breathes out shakily.</p>
<p>“I would like to point out that the next 24 hours will be critical to his recovery,” she says.</p>
<p>“Can I see him?” Ian asks, looking at her imploringly.</p>
<p>“Yes, but only one of you,” she replies.</p>
<p>Ian follows her to the ICU, nervously wringing his hands. His heart feels like it is stuck in his throat when he sees Mickey lying in the hospital bed, hooked to different machines and medication. A tube is attached to his mouth, leading to a respirator next to him. He brushes his hands over his face, inhaling shakily. Seeing him like this makes Ian painfully realize how close Mickey actually was to dying. He swallows hard and steps closer. Mickey looks pale and fragile and so out of place amidst all the tubes and cables, Ian has a hard time looking at him.</p>
<p>“Can I touch him?” He asks, his voice small and pleading.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Dr. Yukimura replies softly.</p>
<p>Hesitantly, Ian reaches for Mickey’s hand. He lets his fingers glide over the soft skin and takes hold, squeezing gently. Mickey’s hand feels warm but unresponsive and Ian can’t fight the tears pricking his eyes any longer. He sniffs once, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand, conscious to the fact that he isn’t alone.</p>
<p>“When is he going to wake up?” Ian asks, not letting go of Mickey’s hand.</p>
<p>“His body has suffered massive trauma, it’s hard to say. We will need to focus on tonight, see how he copes,” she answers and then places a comforting hand on his arm. “Stay with him, make him feel that he isn’t alone.”</p>
<p>She leaves him with Mickey and Ian pulls up the chair next to the bed and settles down. He looks at Mickey breathing through a tube, his chest contracting to the same rhythm as the respirator beside him. Sees the medication drip in a steady pace inside his arm and hears the quiet beep of his heart beat from the monitor attached to the cables leading to his body. He exhales unevenly and reaches for Mickey’s face, careful not to disturb the contraption currently helping Mickey breathe. He cups his cheek gently, brushing his thumb over the fair skin in a gentle caress. For the first time in his life he is touching Mickey like this and does not have him look back. Does not have his blue eyes or that fond smile of his directed at him. It’s unbearable. It feels like there is this lump nestled into his chest tying down his insides uncomfortably. Seeing Mickey like this, his heart fucking aches. He sobs, wiping his tears with his shoulder, not willing to let go off Mickey.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” he exhales on a soft whisper, sniffing once.</p>
<p>He lifts Mickey’s hand and rests his forehead against it, squeezing his eyes shut. His husband was shot and is now hanging by a thread, only because his father wouldn’t accept him marrying Ian. Why do their lives always seem to test them in the most terrible way? Haven’t they proofed themselves often enough now? It hasn’t even been four months yet since they married each other and their wedding vows are already being tested. All he wants is for them to live peacefully.</p>
<p>He takes Mickey’s hand in both of his and squeezes gently. He places a tender kiss against it and begs him silently to wake up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ian startles awake when his elbow he was resting his head on slips off the arm rest. His eyes immediately seek out Mickey on the bed, checking if he has woken up. It’s been three days, but Mickey has yet to wake up. They’ve moved him out of the ICU and have taken him off the respirator yesterday and Ian had hoped that that would mean he would gain consciousness soon. But Ian hasn’t let him out of his sight and he hasn’t even seen him so much as twitch. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes tiredly. He knows his body is exhausted not having slept for three days, but there is also this edge he’s been riding on ever since the shooting that keeps him up and running. Feels like the energy is vibrating out of his skin. His mind keeps circling back to Terry. That first night in the hospital after Mickey was shot, his mind felt numb and there was nothing other than Mickey he could concentrate on. But now he can’t stop thinking about Terry who did this to him. How he actually pulled a gun on his son and shot him. His mind is filled with thoughts about tracking him down. About revenge. Settling the score and paying him back. Making sure he never comes after them again. The only need that was bigger than going after Terry, was staying with Mickey until he woke up. But once Mickey is conscious again, Ian needs to do what needs to be done. They are past finding alternative solutions. Terry needs to go and Ian wants his blood on his hands.</p>
<p>“Ian!” Lip repeats, waving his hand in front of him. He looks concerned, regarding Ian carefully.</p>
<p>“Lip, hey,” Ian says, startled to see his brother in front of him. “Sorry, I spaced out there for a moment.”</p>
<p>“Did you get any sleep at all?” Lip inquires worriedly.</p>
<p>“Yeah, here and there a couple of hours,” he assures him, straightening up in his seat.</p>
<p>Lip scrutinizes him for a moment, visibly concerned. His gaze wanders to the untouched breakfast Carl had dropped off sitting next to him.</p>
<p>“I brought you lunch,” he states, the slightest edge to his voice.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Ian replies, carefully meeting Lip’s eyes.</p>
<p>“You gotta eat, Ian, and sleep for that matter,” Lip says, cautiously broaching the subject.</p>
<p>“I do, I just didn’t get to breakfast yet,” he responds while biting on his fingernails.</p>
<p>“It’s 3pm, Ian,” Lip states softly.</p>
<p>“I’m okay, Lip! I’m okay, alright?” He barks back, fed up with being treated like an imbecile.</p>
<p>His brother watches him for a moment silently before he responds.</p>
<p>“Did you take your meds?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Lip! I took my fucking meds. This is not about me being bipolar right now, okay? My husband is in the hospital after being shot and he’s not waking up! The one we should be worrying about is Mickey!” Ian shouts, jumping up from his seat and pacing off the nervous energy in front of the window.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, calm down,” Lip says, glancing over his shoulder to the hallway to see if they’ve roused any attention, before placing his hands on Ian’s shoulders. He cups Ian’s face to make him look at him and waits until he has his attention. “You got to get it together, okay? I am worried about Mickey, we <em>all</em> are worried about Mickey. But that is not something I have any influence on at the moment. Making sure that you are okay is what I can do. What he would want me to do.”</p>
<p>“I do not need to be taken care of,” Ian bites back, shaking Lip’s hands off.</p>
<p>“We’re your family, Ian. There is nothing wrong with relying on us in tough-”</p>
<p>“Stop treating me like a child!” He says agitated, stepping closer.</p>
<p>“Stop acting like one,” Lip says softly. “You are bipolar and you can’t just ignore that. You need to take care of yourself. You need to make sure you keep it under control, alright? That’s your responsibility.”</p>
<p>“I am under control,” Ian responds through gritted teeth. He inhales a deep breath and forces himself to calm down. “I am under control, okay? I promise. This isn’t about me being sick, Lip. I-I just…” he says, turning to Mickey desolately. “I just want him to wake up. I want him to be okay.”</p>
<p>“He will,” Lip responds assertive, placing his hands on Ian’s arms, turning his attention back to him. “Until he does, you gotta eat, sleep, and make sure you take your meds, alright? And maybe throw in a shower, okay?” He adds with a weak chuckle.</p>
<p>Ian huffs defeated, meeting Lip’s eyes.</p>
<p>“I reek?”</p>
<p>“You keep it up and Mickey will wake up because of the stench in this room alone,” he jokes, patting Ian on his cheek affectionately.</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Ian retorts without bite.</p>
<p>“He’ll be okay,” Lip says, looking into Ian’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Ian exhales, nodding his head in response.</p>
<p>“But if he wakes up and you’re not here, not okay and in some psychotic break, Mickey will go on a murder spree. And I’m pretty sure I’d be high up on that list for letting this happen. So, if you lack motivation to take care of yourself, just think about that. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for him. And at the very least for me, if you’re interested in keeping your big brother alive,” he pleads, making Ian scoff and laugh in response.</p>
<p>“There’s a gym across the street, maybe I can sneak in and freshen up,” Ian offers amenably. He is not willing to leave Mickey alone long enough to go all the way home. But stealing a shower at the gym in front of the hospital should just take about ten minutes.</p>
<p>“There you go,” Lip replies satisfied and hands him the lunch he bought on the way. “Here’s sustenance.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he says and takes the paper bag out of his hands. There is a burrito, soda, and cookie inside.</p>
<p>“I gotta go back to work, but if you need anything, call me,” Lip says, pulling Ian into an embrace. “I mean it.”</p>
<p>“Yes. Go,” Ian responds, clapping him on his back when they part.</p>
<p>“Let us know when Mickey wakes up,” Lip demands, slowly walking out of the room.</p>
<p>“I will,” he promises and waves his brother good-bye.</p>
<p>He watches his brother leave, before he turns back to Mickey. He sighs into the silence of the room and then steps toward the window. He looks at the gym across the street and then lets his eyes wander to the lunch bag Lip brought. Ian turns his back on the window, tosses his breakfast into the paper bag, throws it into the corner of the room, and then settles back into his chair next to Mickey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why hasn’t he woken up yet?” Ian asks, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.</p>
<p>Dr. Yukimura studies Mickey’s vitals, taking a moment before she answers him.</p>
<p>“Sometimes these things take time. It’s still not out of the ordinary. Not yet,” she adds honestly, glancing to Ian. “Maybe you should take a break and go home. When is the last time you slept in an actual bed?”</p>
<p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Ian replies, brooking no argument.</p>
<p>She looks at him sympathetically and nods.</p>
<p>“How about this? The other bed is currently empty, as long as we don’t need it, you can lie down there. This way you don’t need to leave your husband and we don’t risk you collapsing on us,” she offers kindly, referring to the bed next to Mickey’s.</p>
<p>Ian meets her eyes for a beat and thinks about it. It’s a compromise to which he actually can agree. He nods, thanking her, and then slowly makes his way over to the bed when she has left the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I brought you another set of spare clothes,” Liam says, placing a bag next to Ian. “And some other things I thought you might need. Head phones, a book, your charger, a shaving kit…” He lists. “If you need anything else, let me know,” he adds after a beat. “Ian?” He steps closer and places a hand on Ian’s shoulder when the latter still doesn’t react. “Please be okay,” he says and hugs him tightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ian watches himself in the bathroom mirror after having splashed cool water into his face. The water drops trickle down the bridge of his nose and cheeks, hanging from his jawline for a moment before dripping into the sink. His eyes are red shot and he has dark bags hanging under them. His skin feels taut and sensitive to the touch and when his fingers don’t stop trembling he pulls them away from his face, burrowing his hands into the pockets of his pants. He steps out of the tiny hospital bathroom, returning to Mickey’s side.</p>
<p>His half eaten sandwich is lying on his seat, where he had placed it before going into the bathroom. He doesn’t have much of an appetite and discards the sandwich without care on the small bedside drawers, next to Mickey’s belongings. Thankfully, Lip had made sure to remove the sealed plastic bag with Mickey’s cut up and blood soaked clothes he was wearing the day he was shot, so Ian didn’t have to keep staring at it. Not that he doesn’t keep imagining how Mickey got shot regardless of whether he has a visual reminder or not, but the sight made him nauseated the first time he had inspected the bloody clothes.</p>
<p>He picks up Mickey’s wallet, he finally agreed to buy after Ian had told him to stop carrying his change and IDs around in a plastic bag. Unsurprisingly, it already has a few scratches and a little stain on the black leather. Flipping it open, he sees his insurance card crookedly jammed into one of the pockets, probably taken out and haphazardly returned by one of the nurses when he was admitted to the hospital. There are twenty-six bucks in crumpled bills mixed in with some receipts and what looks like a folded piece of photo paper. Curiously, he pulls it out and opens it. It’s a very old picture of him, he remembers Mandy having taken it out of his room, back when they were still pretending to be a couple. It’s heavily worn, creases and tears littering the paper, looking like it’s been carried around for years. He didn’t realize Mickey had kept the picture all this time. He turns to Mickey, gently caressing his cheek.</p>
<p>“You soft bastard,” he whispers.</p>
<p>He folds the picture and returns it where he had found it, dropping the wallet on the bedside table. He picks up Mickey’s phone, noticing the battery is about to go out, and plugs it into his charger, settling down with it. He and Ian never drew any lines about what belongs to whom. The Gallaghers grew up always sharing everything. Be it food, clothes, toys, or a room with three brothers. And living with Mickey had never been any different. Back when they were playing house with Svetlana and Yevgeny, especially so when they were in prison sharing a tiny cell, and now that they’ve built a home together for themselves in the Gallagher house. They actually shared this phone for a while when they were released from prison until Ian managed to get a good deal on a second-hand phone from his colleague. The phone doesn’t even have a passcode and Ian swipes the generic lock screen off to find their old background picture still in place. It’s a candid capture of them in the kitchen, still in their boxers and sleep shirts, wearing socks and preparing breakfast. Mickey stands in front of the pan, looking over his shoulder where Ian is handing him the eggs from the fridge. He remembers Mickey telling a lame joke, grinning satisfied when he rolled his eyes, but was unable to keep the corners of his lips from rising in response. Debbie took that moment and snapped a picture and when she shared it with him, he impulsively set it as their background picture. He wipes over it for a moment, lingering on Mickey’s face. He misses Mickey’s stupid jokes, his shit-talking rants, and the way he calls his name or tells him he loves him. He misses Mickey.</p>
<p>Ian exhales wearily and then randomly taps Mickey’s messages open. His name is right on the top of the list as the last person he had received a message from just a couple hours before the shooting. Ian had asked him if he should pick him up after work, since he had taken the car that day. Mickey had replied that he still needed to drop by Larry’s and that he’d just take the L, meeting him at home. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rests his forehead against the phone. If he had just picked him up, Terry wouldn’t have been able to corner him in that alley. In retrospect they had been really careless. They knew Terry was after them, but they just went about their lives like usual, thinking if they just looked over their shoulders and paid enough attention, they would be fine. His knuckles turn white where he grabs the phone tightly in his hand. They should never have let things come to this from the very beginning. Maybe he should have let Mickey go after Terry with his pump gun back then on their wedding day. Instead of punching Mickey, he should have beaten Terry, making sure he would never come after them. He won’t make that mistake again. Ian swears to himself he will find Terry and make him pay for what he’s done to Mickey.</p>
<p>He is about to put Mickey’s phone aside when he sees Franny’s name on the list under his and Iggy’s. Tapping the icon, the chat window opens and he sees dozens of voice messages going back and forth between Mickey and Franny. He starts playing the first one, listening to the messages one after the other.</p>
<p>…<em>Yes, like this and now you speak-</em></p>
<p>It’s Sandy’s voice talking to Franny apparently, before she is cut off.</p>
<p>
  <em>Hold the button like this and then you can speak with Mickey. Hey bitch, we’re testing out Franny’s new phone. Remember my ex I met in juvie? Turns out she’s awaiting sentencing for aggravated assault in the same jail as Debbie. She says she can get Debbie a phone inside. Is really the least she can do, seeing as I taught her how to fight and survive in juvie. So, I swiped a phone from some jackass on the bus and now Franny can talk to her mom. Isn’t that right, my little warrior princess? As soon as we teach you how to leave messages.</em>
</p>
<p>…<em>Hello Uncle Mickey… </em></p>
<p>There is a long pause in which Ian hears rustling and Sandy’s soft whispers, before Franny continues talking.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sandy says she will hide all your lobe… lube, if you forget to bring pizza tonight.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She says I should ask you what lube is. What’s lube, Uncle Mickey?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tell Sandy I will put anchovies on her pizza, if she goes anywhere near my lube. Can’t believe she got you a fucking phone, you’re five. Whatever, I guess this works out. Listen, you’re ever in trouble, you let me know. Alright, red chipmunk?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Uncle Mickey, I can’t find my teddy.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wasn’t he in your bed when Ian tucked you in yesterday? Try looking under your pillow. Where the fuck is Lip? He is supposed to watch you, ask him to help you look. And if you see him eating the dinner I made for Ian, tell him I will kick his ass!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hey chipmunk, is Ian home?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He’s sleeping on the couch.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Explains why he doesn’t answer his phone. I guess I’ll buy the damn groceries by myself then. Anything you want, kiddo?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Jello!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You keep eating that shit and you will turn into a jiggly carrot. How about something healthy, huh? Aren’t you supposed to eat all kinds of greens and shit?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I want jello.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Alright, alright, how about I’ll get you green broccoli for dinner and green jello for dessert? Sound like a compromise?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Good girl! I’ll be home soon. Let your Uncle sleep, okay?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Teddy is gone, Uncle Mickey. Help me find him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Again? I’m at work right now. Where was he last time you lost him? Look there.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I found him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Next time you lose that thing, I will put a tracking device in his stuffing.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I think he is lonely. He misses Mom. I think he wants to go find her.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Is that so? You think he’d feel better, if we found him a Mrs. Teddy? Or Mr. Teddy, whatever floats his boat.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>What if she happens to bring jello home, too? Would Teddy feel less lonely?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A lot of jello?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>All the jello she can carry.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay, I’ll tell Teddy.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Come home, Uncle Mickey. Something is wrong with Uncle Ian.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>What’s wrong? Is he hurt? What happened? I’m already on my way back.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He looks sick. Uncles are worried. I heard them talking about p-polar sickness. Will he be okay?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Don’t worry, chipmunk. Sometimes your Uncle Ian feels a bit off, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll be home in ten.</em>
</p>
<p>Ian stops the playback from automatically continuing, burying his head into his hands. His eyes start to water and he clenches his teeth. Frustrated he looks up to Mickey, taking his hand in his.</p>
<p>“You asshole, wake the fuck up… Stop being a shit already. Your doctor said you could have woken up days ago,” he says, feeling the tears trickle down his cheeks. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. I think… I think I’m losing it. I’m not sure how long I can hold out,” he admits forlorn. “My heart fucking hurts, Mickey…”</p>
<p>Sobbing he lifts Mickey’s hand up and pulls it against his lips, gazing over Mickey’s blank face.</p>
<p>“Just open your eyes, please. Come back to me. You promised me nothing would ever keep you from me, so just fucking come back to me already.”</p>
<p>He startles and jerks away when the door opens suddenly. Turning his back on the nurse entering the room, he quickly wipes away the tears and clears his throat. She looks at him sympathetically, stepping closer to Mickey’s bed to replace his IV bag.</p>
<p>“I’m going to make him a bit more comfortable,” she tells him, preparing the washcloths and towels. “How about you go for a walk, stretch your legs, maybe get something to eat, while I take care of your husband? I won’t be long, I promise,” she says kindly.</p>
<p>Ian nods his head and gets up, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. He steps into the hallway and makes his way outside, down the corner to the coffee stand. His hands tremble terribly when he tries to light a cigarette while waiting in line. His heart is pounding against his ribcage in a disturbing off-beat and Ian thinks coffee might not be such a good idea after all. He needs sleep, but the way his body feels so wired he knows he isn’t going to get it even if he were to lie down in an actual bed. With jittery fingers he brushes over his forehead and steps out of line, foregoing the coffee. Instead he decides to just finish his smoke and let the sun prickle his hypersensitive skin on his way back slowly to the hospital entrance. He inhales the last drag of his cigarette, staring with vacant eyes at the traffic flow coming in and out of the hospital in front of him when he, suddenly, sees a familiar head of gray hair in a black cargo jacket stepping through the front doors. He blinks his tired eyes and checks again, but the bulky frame and gruff face are unmistakable.</p>
<p>“Terry,” he murmurs stunned.</p>
<p>The already painful beat of his heart kicks up into overdrive and, flicking his cigarette butt away, he jumps forward over the stone steps leading to the entrance and crashes through the doors. Terry is here at the hospital and Ian’s blood boils. He whips his head around, trying to spot him in the entrance hall and sees him vanishing behind the doors to the stairwell. What is Terry doing here? It can’t be a coincidence he’s in the same hospital as Mickey, Ian is sure. Running after him, he pushes the door open and finds himself in front of the staircase, hearing footsteps from above. Between the railings he can get a glimpse to the upper floors and sees Terry climbing the stairs. Quickly he runs after him, trying to keep an eye on him. Terry slips into the hallway on the third floor and Ian practically flies over the stairs to keep up with him. He almost bumps into an orderly when he exits the stairwell. He apologizes to him distractedly while trying to find Terry, looking up and down the hallway. No sight of him. Ian stands there, catching his breath and trying to figure out where Terry went, and wonders if he’s lost him. He walks down the hall, keeping an eye out for him left and right when he, suddenly, realizes he’s ended up on the wing in which Mickey’s room is located. Dread and panic washes over him and he rushes toward Mickey’s room. Rounding the corner he sees Terry at the end of the hall, slipping through the emergency door outside. He sprints after him, knocking over a stand for medical info brochures, startling the staff and patients around him.</p>
<p>“Sir?” He hears from behind him, barely noticing a doctor calling after him.</p>
<p>He makes it to the door and is about to push it open when the doctor grabs him by his shoulder and pulls him back.</p>
<p>“Sir, you can’t exit through the emergency door. You’ll trigger the alarm,” he says serious, regarding Ian’s ruffled state in bewilderment.</p>
<p>“But the man just now, he went through here. I need to follow him,” Ian responds impatiently, moving toward the door only for the doctor to step into his path, gently but determinedly pushing him back.</p>
<p>“What man? Nobody came by here. Are you okay, sir?” He asks, scrutinizing Ian carefully.</p>
<p>Ian just saw Terry walk through this door. If he doesn’t hurry up and follow him, he will lose him.</p>
<p>“The older guy, gray hair, black jacket? How can you not have seen him pass you by? I don’t have time for this, get out of my way,” Ian demands, grinding his teeth.</p>
<p>“Look, if somebody had gone through this door, the alarm would have been set off,” he explains, pointing to the red light above them where the door’s sensor connects to the alarm box.</p>
<p>Confused Ian sees the alarm is still untriggered. He doesn’t understand how that is possible when he clearly saw Terry opening the door. He looks between the doctor and the door in bewilderment when a sudden thought creeps up into his mind. If Terry had come all the way to this wing and he left, didn’t that mean he had already done what he had planned to do? He whips his head toward Mickey’s room and rushes inside. The room is in a commotion. The nurse from earlier and Dr. Yukimura are leaning over Mickey, examining and probing him. He can’t exactly see what she is doing as her back is turned toward him and she is obscuring his direct sight line to Mickey. With a heavy heart he steps closer, his anxiety spiking.</p>
<p>“What happened?” He asks, his voice breaking in the middle.</p>
<p>“Mr. Gallagher, it’s good that you’re here. We noticed an irregular heart beat a few minutes ago,” Dr. Yukimura states, gesturing him to come closer.</p>
<p>“What does that mean?”</p>
<p>Ian balls his hands into fists by his side, feeling the cold sweat like a layer on his skin. Bracing himself he rounds the bed until he stands at the foot and looks at Mickey.</p>
<p>“He woke up,” she announces with a smile. “Just for a moment, but he is showing signs of regaining full consciousness.”</p>
<p>“What?” He mutters dazed, finally allowing himself to get a clearer view at Mickey. He still looks like he is unresponsive until he sees his head move slightly. The breath rushes out of him, the relief being as overwhelming as the anxiety was just a moment ago. “He is waking up?”</p>
<p>“Yes, shouldn’t be long until he is completely up,” she replies, returning her stethoscope around her neck.</p>
<p>Ian can’t quiet believe this is happening, even though he’s practically wished for this moment every minute since the operation. He brushes his hands over his face, feeling as if he is running on his last fumes. He sees the doctor from the hallway has also come into the room, cautiously eyeing Ian’s condition. Dr. Yukimura picks up on this and turns her attention to Ian as well. She regards him concerned, noticing how disheveled and haggard he must look, if the way he feels is any indication.</p>
<p>“Are you feeling all right?”</p>
<p>He looks between the doctors and then lets his gaze settle on Mickey. He is so close to seeing him wake up. And Terry is out there, still a threat to them. Biting his lip, he thinks back to what Lip and Liam had said to him and ultimately what Mickey had told Franny.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sometimes your Uncle Ian feels a bit off, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’ll be fine, I promise.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It's nothing he can’t handle.</em>
</p>
<p>He looks up at Dr. Yukimura, meeting her eyes.</p>
<p>“No, I’m not. I think I need some help.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>-</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The feeling of soft fingers brushing through his hair makes Ian sigh contently. He feels his temple being caressed gently and Ian leans into the warm touch until his groggy brain slowly comes to the realization that he isn’t dreaming. He startles awake, jerking his head up from where it was resting next to Mickey’s hip, and looks over to Mickey who is smiling back at him.</p>
<p>“Rise and shine, can’t sleep all day,” he croaks out.</p>
<p>“Mickey,” Ian exhales in a whisper, staring at Mickey speechlessly.</p>
<p>“Miss me?” He quips, smiling softly. He clears his throat, speaking seemingly still being uncomfortable after having been on the respirator, and reaches for the plastic cup next to him. He takes an ice chip out of it and puts it into his mouth, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat.</p>
<p>“Since when are you awake?” Ian asks, still stunned seeing Mickey conscious.</p>
<p>“Was in and out through the night. Really woke up this morning, maybe an hour ago? Long enough for the doc to check up on me,” he explains.</p>
<p>Ian snaps out of his stupor and straightens up.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you wake me?”</p>
<p>“Looked like you needed the sleep,” Mickey answers, regarding him concerned. “You look worse than I feel.”</p>
<p>Mickey reaches his hand out to Ian’s and gently brushes over his fingers.</p>
<p>“Sounds about right,” Ian murmurs and sighs. “Do you remember what happened?”</p>
<p>“Terry ambushed me after my meeting with Larry,” he replies, taking another ice chip.</p>
<p>“You got shot twice,” Ian tells him.</p>
<p>“I feel like I get shot at a lot,” Mickey states, chuckling.</p>
<p>“It’s not funny, you almost died,” Ian says, letting his eyes fall on their entwined hands.</p>
<p>“What are you talking about? I just got you to marry me, as if I would die that easily now that I locked you down,” he retorts lightheartedly, pulling at Ian’s hand to have him look at him.</p>
<p>“Sure had me in suspense,” Ian replies surly. “What’s with you sleeping for five days, you fucking asshole?”</p>
<p>“Excuse me for trying to knit myself back together after being shot,” Mickey shoots back without bite.</p>
<p>“Don’t do that to me ever again,” he says, not meeting his eyes.</p>
<p>Mickey’s gaze is soft and caring when he looks Ian up and down.</p>
<p>“How have you been holding up?”</p>
<p>Ian brushes his free hand over his face, sighing tiredly.</p>
<p>“Not good,” he answers truthfully, hesitantly looking up.</p>
<p>“Steal any babies lately?” Mickey asks carefully.</p>
<p>“No, was riding more of a homicidal edge."</p>
<p>“Shit, any bodies we need to make disappear?”</p>
<p>“We’re good,” Ian replies, grateful that nothing happened that he would come to regret later.</p>
<p>“Doc said you came to her for help,” Mickey says.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m probably more drugged up than you at the moment.”</p>
<p>Mickey pulls at Ian’s hand, making him look up.</p>
<p>“I’m proud of you,” he states seriously, making sure to meet Ian’s eyes.</p>
<p>Ian isn’t convinced he deserves any of that, he was really close to losing it, even if he sought out help in the end. He is scared to think how far he would have gone during this psychotic break had he not.</p>
<p>“Just don’t get shot anymore, okay?” He replies with a sigh.</p>
<p>“I’ll do my best, but you’re familiar with my staggering personality, right?” Mickey responds, small smile gracing his lips.</p>
<p>“Oh, I know,” Ian scoffs amused.</p>
<p>“So, you’re on the really heavy stuff right now?” Mickey asks.</p>
<p>“My head feels like cotton. Contrary to expectation, not in a good way,” he describes and shrugs. “You know I hate this.”</p>
<p>“I know. But it’s just for a while, right?”</p>
<p>“I think so,” Ian replies. Now that Mickey is out of the woods, he’ll be okay. “How do <em>you</em> feel? You’re the one with holes in your body.”</p>
<p>“Not too bad. Nurse hooked me up with some A-grade morphine. I can share,” he offers jokingly, grinning at Ian.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Ian replies amused, shaking his head.</p>
<p>Mickey’s expression turns serious after a beat, staring outside the window for a moment before he returns his attention to Ian.</p>
<p>“Any clue on where Terry is? I know we said we’d split, but the hell I’m gonna see you say good-bye to your family, because of this asshole. He doesn’t get to ruin our lives more than he already has.”</p>
<p>“That’s not exactly a problem anymore,” Ian replies.</p>
<p>“It isn’t? I thought you said we didn’t have to bury any bodies,” Mickey responds, eyebrow furrowed.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t me. I got a call from the detectives yesterday evening. Apparently somebody beat and then dumped Terry in front of the police station, tied up like a neat package, all including the weapon he used to shoot you.”</p>
<p>“The fuck? Who?” Mickey asks surprised.</p>
<p>“Iggy and Colin,” Ian answers. He had received a text from them shortly after the detectives had called with the simple message <em>We took care of it. Terry won’t be a problem anymore</em>.</p>
<p>“My brothers went against Pops?” Mickey looks absolutely stunned.</p>
<p>“He tried to kill you,” he replies simply.</p>
<p>“Sure, but he’s still our dad. It’s just me he had a problem with. I can’t believe they would do that because of me,” Mickey says bewildered.</p>
<p>“I think you underestimate how much you mean to people.” Ian’s hand travels up, gently caressing Mickey’s arm. He leans on the bed and takes Mickey’s abandoned hand into his free palm, playing softly with his fingers while he continues talking. “Franny demands to see you every day. She even left her teddies with you, look,” he says, nodding his head to the bedside table where one brown and one white teddy are sitting next to a vase of flowers. “Larry brought flowers with the longest get well wishes I’ve ever seen,” he adds amused, referring to the card next to the vase. “Sandy has been coming by every night after work to check up on you. Debbie has used her daily phone calls to ask for updates on your condition. Liam has researched practically everything there is to know about post-surgery complications; I think I’ve even seen him talk to Dr. Yukimura about you. Kev and V have hung a wanted poster at the Alibi after you’ve been shot, getting the whole neighborhood to keep an eye out for Terry. Carl had to literally be restrained to stop him from going after your father. Lip,” Ian says and then chuckles. “Well, he was pretty much the same.”</p>
<p>“Figures,” Mickey retorts in mock animosity.</p>
<p>He turns his attention to Mickey’s fingers, fiddling around with the ring.</p>
<p>“And I,” he begins. “I was a wreck. I could barely hold it together without you. It’s scary to think how much you mean to me. But I’ve realized that you might not even know that. I am aware that I cannot always express myself the way I want to and I think it might have lead you to believe that you are more invested in this relationship than I. It’s true that I needed a lot more pushes to end up where we are now. Once you let me in, you loved like a fricking bulldozer. And I think I hadn’t really been able to reconcile why you would love me so much. I had all these doubts and, I guess, insecurities that made me feel scared. But I was never once unsure about the fact that I loved you. And when you married me I tried to figure out a way to make you comprehend how much you mean to me. I was obsessed with finding out what it means to be a good husband and you… you just showed it to me every day. Effortlessly. Do you even realize how I keep falling further and further in love with you? I don’t want to spend a single day without you in my life, so you better start learning how to outrun bullets.”</p>
<p>Amused, the corner of his lips rise into a small smile when he sees Mickey’s eyes begin to water.</p>
<p>“Fuck, you can’t just spout love confessions as if I’ve died,” Mickey says gruffly, rubbing at his eyes.</p>
<p>“Well, you might wanna get tissues for the next bit then,” he replies simply and lets go of him.</p>
<p>“There’s more?” Mickey asks in disbelief.</p>
<p>Ian pulls his shirt over his head, baring his chest, revealing a water-proof band-aid under his left clavicle. Slowly he rips it off, showing Mickey what’s underneath.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mickey Millkovich</em>
</p>
<p>Mickey stares at it with wide eyes, the breath stuck in his throat.</p>
<p>“I had it done the day you got shot. It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ian says, watching Mickey’s reaction with amusement.</p>
<p>“Milkovich is spelled with one L,” is all Mickey manages to respond.</p>
<p>“Figured the missing L had to go somewhere,” Ian replies, referring to Mickey’s misspelled tattoo of his own name.</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ,” he responds, struggling to find words.</p>
<p>Ian leans forward, cupping Mickey’s cheek, and wipes away a tear that escaped despite Mickey’s best efforts.</p>
<p>“I won’t be able to let you know how much I love you whenever you deserve to hear it, so I hope you can just look at this and know how I feel,” he says.</p>
<p>Mickey reaches with both hands for Ian’s face and pulls him closer, letting their lips meet in a tender kiss.</p>
<p>“Fuck, I love you,” Mickey states shakily, hanging on Ian’s lips.</p>
<p>It’s been days since Ian kissed Mickey last and he revels in the tingling sensation now. He presses their lips eagerly together, licking longingly into Mickey’s mouth. He’s forced to lean back when Mickey becomes breathless, his lungs still not having completely recovered.</p>
<p>“You okay?” He asks, keeping an eye on Mickey’s breathing.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Mickey answers, nodding. He shifts to the other side of the bed, groaning in pain when the movement jostles his injuries.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Ian asks concerned and helps him navigate the wires and tubes leading to his bed.</p>
<p>“C’mere,” Mickey replies and taps the empty space next to him.</p>
<p>“The bed isn’t exactly designed to fit two grown men,” he responds, but is already starting to carefully climb in.</p>
<p>“Stop yapping and get your arms around me,” Mickey demands. Ian squeezes next to him, lying on his side. He slips one arm underneath Mickey’s head and gently pulls Mickey against him. Careful not to hit his wounds, he rests his other arm alongside Mickey’s, entwining their fingers.</p>
<p>“Good?” Ian asks to make sure Mickey isn’t in pain.</p>
<p>“Perfect,” Mickey replies contently. He glances over to Ian, eyeing the tattoo. “I love it.”</p>
<p>“I thought you might,” he responds and already feels his eye lids getting heavier.</p>
<p>“You’re not the only one, you know,” Mickey says softly.</p>
<p>“Not the only one what?”</p>
<p>“Not the only one who keeps falling further in love,” Mickey confesses. “I’m pretty gone on you, if you hadn’t noticed.”</p>
<p>Ian smiles against Mickey’s head.</p>
<p>“I won this round of love confessions, don’t even try.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t realize this was a competition,” Mickey states amused, gazing at him fondly.</p>
<p>“I lose every time you look at me like this,” Ian says with a sigh and just closes his tired eyes, so he can block Mickey out. He nuzzles closer and blindly places a kiss against his hair.</p>
<p>Mickey lifts their entwined arms up and returns the kiss to the back of Ian’s hand and then settles back. Ian feels warm and loved having Mickey back in his arms. Mickey survived and finally woke up, Ian managed to get his disorder under control, and with Terry awaiting his sentencing for attempted murder, he can finally relax. At last he has his husband back and despite the fact they are cramped into an uncomfortable hospital bed, that the room smells like disinfectant, and they have a long road of recovery ahead, he couldn’t be happier. Wants nothing more than to fall asleep with Mickey burrowed against him here and can’t wait waking up to his soothing scent. Tomorrow and every day to come. He was lucky enough to marry a man who gave him everything he ever wanted and needed. Who is his best friend and his family. Someone to whom he gave his body and heart.</p>
<p><em>This is the fucking picture of marital bliss </em>he thinks and for the first time in five days he drifts off to sleep with a smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is it, folks! Thanks for coming on this journey with me. I would love to know what you thought! Please leave love!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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